Death on the Fourth of July
by EvergreenDreamweaver
Summary: Summertime before Joe starts college. No one expected to come home from a parade and find what the Hardy Boys found!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around the year 2003, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give pretty much all the credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Story note: This takes place approximately a month after _Fanfare for June_ , in the story arc.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 1

"This is so lovely!" Megan Wright's soft voice was barely audible over the penetrating wail of bagpipes. "New York City has parades, of course – but this is completely different! I love it!" She glanced up at the tall boy beside her, her aquamarine eyes alight with pleasure behind her sunglasses.

"Bayport does a nice Fourth of July parade," Nineteen-year-old Frank Hardy admitted, surveying with warm brown eyes the passing cadre of kilted pipers. "I hadn't thought about it being different from what you'd seen in New York. It's hard for me to remember sometimes that you haven't even been in Bayport for a year. It seems like you've been here forever." He put an arm about Megan's shoulders and pulled his girlfriend against him for a moment, brushing his lips across her tumbled red-gold curls.

"Hey, watch the Public Display of Affection!" his younger brother Joe cracked from where he stood on the other side of Megan. He grinned teasingly at Frank and Megan before leaning sideways to plant a kiss on Vanessa Bender's cheek, ducking beneath the brim of her lightweight straw hat. The tall ash-blonde Vanessa smiled and tilted her head against Joe's, but didn't take her eyes from the parade.

The Fourth of July was a big day in Bayport, New York. The entire population of the city, some 50,000 inhabitants, might not _all_ have gone downtown to view the parade, but a large percentage of them was either standing or sitting on the sidewalks watching it, or was participating in it. The crowds of people were good-natured enough, but it made for a lot of pushing and shoving as parade-watchers jostled for position. To complicate matters, there were scores of booths and vendor displays set up for all sorts of merchandise, food and drinks. Children darted through the throngs of people, occasionally diving into the street to pick up the wrapped candies tossed from the various floats in the parade. Firecrackers popped and high-pitched "wailing" ones screeched. The noise level was horrific.

The weather had cooperated too enthusiastically; instead of the hoped-for low-eighties high temperature, the forecast was for a high in the upper-nineties by the afternoon. Already, at 11 a.m., the sun was beating down remorselessly. Every available spot of shade was taken; for the most part, the parade-goers simply stood and sweltered in the hot sunshine. Tonight, when fireworks were set off over Barmet Bay, the warmth would be a delight; at the moment, it was simply too much of a good thing. Although the Hardys and their dates were dressed for the weather, they still felt as if they were standing in front of an open oven, as the heat radiated up from the sidewalks and the street.

Frank and Joe were the sons of eminent private investigator Fenton Hardy and his wife Laura. Once a detective for the New York City Police Department, Fenton had dropped police work to go into business for himself, and moved to Bayport when the boys were small. As they matured, Frank and Joe found themselves irresistibly drawn toward investigative work too, and despite some misgivings on their parents' parts, had declared that some form of this activity was what they wished to make their careers. They had been working on solving cases for the past several years, both on their own and in conjunction with their illustrious father.

Frank, a lean, dark-haired six-foot-one, had just completed his freshman year at Bayport Community College, as had Megan. Eighteen-year-old Joe was a contrast in appearance, with wavy blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a muscular frame to go with his six-foot height. He and Vanessa had recently graduated from Bayport High, along with their friends Chet Morton, Biff Hooper, Devon Marshand, and Karen Kerr.

The four teens stood watching the parade entries pass by, the boys attempting to protect their dates from being shoved into the street by the ever-growing crowd. Vanessa, being nearly six feet tall, managed to hold her own better than tiny Megan, but Megan was standing between Frank and Joe, and was therefore jostled much less than her friend.

After another hour of floats, marching bands, politicians riding in top-down convertibles, troops of mounted sheriff's posses, and flatbed trucks piled high with Little League teams and Cub Scouts, a final pair of Bayport's finest mounted on motorcycles signaled the end of this year's Independence Day parade, revving their engines and making their sirens yelp, adding to the tumult. The crowd began to disperse, streaming in various directions: some toward the booths selling food and cold drinks, others heading for their cars and homes; still others walking towards the nearby small city park where the local Rotary clubs were joined in putting on a hamburger-and-hot dog barbecue in the welcome shade of the trees.

"Whew, what a crush!" Joe whistled through his teeth, and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I didn't think there were this many people in Bayport!"

"And it's so hot!" Megan added. "I feel like I'm about to melt!" She took off her hat and fanned herself with it.

"Shall we get something to drink?" Frank suggested. "And then we could walk down to the carnival area, maybe?" He pointed down the street, from whence came the music of various carnival rides and occasional shouts of the "carnies" to passers-by. "Hey, little girl, if you come with me, I'll buy you some cotton candy," he added to Megan, with his best attempt at a leer. She giggled, and punched his arm.

"Sounds okay to me," Joe offered. Megan nodded agreement, and they looked to Vanessa, who had been abnormally silent for some time. "Van? Does that sound like something you want to do?" Joe asked her.

His girlfriend closed her eyes briefly and bit her lower lip. "Not – really," she murmured.

"Babe? What's wrong?" Joe peered at her anxiously and put his arm around her. Frank and Megan huddled close in shared concern.

"I'm sorry, guys, really I am." Vanessa's forehead creased in a pained frown. "But I have got the most horrendous headache. I woke up with it this morning, but I thought it would go away. It hasn't – and the noise and this hot sun, have made it a lot worse. I think I'd like to go home…." She rubbed her forehead fretfully, trying to massage away the pain. "I don't want to spoil your fun – maybe I can get a cab, or something."

"Don't be silly!" Joe said, scowling. "You aren't going to take a cab; I'll take you right home."

"First things first," Frank interposed. "Let's get you out of this sun, Vanessa." He marshaled the other three ahead of him towards the nearest tree; even a little shade was better than none. Stepping beneath the leafy branches was instant relief from the relentless sun, and all of them breathed involuntary sighs of relief.

"I don't want to be a bother—" Vanessa began again.

"Honey, you aren't a bother," Megan said gently. "The carnival and the rides and all this will be here all today and tonight. There's nothing that says we have to see them right now. And I have a suggestion – a possible solution."

The boys looked at her inquiringly; Vanessa had simply removed her hat, closed her eyes again, and was leaning against the trunk of the tree.

"Your house is the nearest," Megan reminded Frank and Joe. "Why couldn't we go there for a while, and let Vanessa lie down and rest and try to get rid of the headache? That way she doesn't have to go all the way home, and if she feels better later, we can always come back. If she still feels bad after an hour or so, Joe can take her home then. I wouldn't mind sitting somewhere cool and quiet myself."

"Sounds like a plan." Joe nodded his blonde head and sought his brother's eyes for confirmation. "Van, babe, is that okay?"

His girlfriend managed a wan smile. "That sounds wonderful. I'd really appreciate it – if you're sure you don't mind leaving for a while."

"You three stay here, and I'll go get the Aztek," Joe said, speaking of the SRV he had received for his 18th birthday, three months previously. "I'll pull up right in front of you; all you'll have to do is walk across the sidewalk and get in." He took off through the crowd, breaking into a jog as soon as he had a little space to do so.

"I'm going to see if I can get us something cold to drink." Frank eased himself into the glaring sunlight. "Maybe that will help a little, Vanessa."

"Maybe," she responded listlessly, her eyes still closed.

#####

It took Joe fifteen minutes to return. He had to edge the Aztek carefully through the crowds of people, who seemed to consider the street simply an extension of the sidewalk, and milled about as if they were in the middle of a parking lot instead of a main avenue. Frank had gotten cold lemonade for himself and the girls, and the beverage had revived Vanessa slightly. She still looked uncomfortable, but she wasn't quite so pale, and when Joe pulled up next to the curb, she walked unhesitatingly toward his little blue vehicle. Frank and Megan followed her closely. Their cherished patch of shade was immediately taken over by several other people seeking shelter from the sun.

Frank opened the back door of the Aztek and helped Vanessa into the rear seat. Megan slid in after her. On their way downtown, Vanessa had sat in front with Joe; right now, that seat was left for Frank to occupy. Joe switched the air conditioning on full blast. He glanced in the rearview mirror at his girlfriend's wan face; Vanessa wasn't often sick, and it worried him when she didn't feel well. Joe maneuvered deftly through the congested traffic, and as soon as it was possible to do so, increased his speed substantially.

Elm Street was shady and peaceful; the temperature seemed ten degrees cooler there than it had downtown. Joe pulled his car into the driveway, next to Frank's recently-acquired black Saturn. Neither their father's brown Volvo nor Laura's gold Ford Tempo were visible; the parents had taken Laura's car to the parade, and Joe assumed Fenton's was in the garage.

"Come on babe, you'll feel better when you lie down," Joe encouraged Vanessa as he unlocked the front door and ushered her into the house. The contrast between the humid heat outside and the air-conditioned interior was a welcome sensation to all four of them.

"There's some migraine-strength aspirin in mom's bathroom, I think; I'll go up and get it," Frank said now. Joe's lips twitched a little. _Old take-charge Frank!_ he thought. "Joe, why don't you get Van settled on the couch in the family room?" the elder boy continued.

"Okay," Joe replied, deciding to withhold any comments about his older brother's tendency to boss people around, since it was exactly what he'd intended to do anyway. He took Vanessa's arm and headed for the family room; upon reaching his destination, he guided her to the sofa and gently helped her sit down.

"I'll get a cold cloth for your head, Vanessa," Megan offered.

"That's a good idea," Frank commented from halfway up the stairs.

Megan walked toward the kitchen, whistling softly; she had _The Stars and Stripes Forever_ indelibly etched in her mind now, since she'd heard it at least three different times during the course of the parade. _Oh well, better that than the theme from "Bridge on the River Kwai"!_ she thought, giggling a bit.

Frank, in his parents' bathroom, opened a drawer and found the bottle of tablets he was seeking. He was just turning to leave the room, when Megan's voice echoed up the stairwell and through the quiet house.

"Mrs. Hardy? Laura? … MRS. HARDY?" And then came a high-pitched, terrified scream: "Frank! FRANK! FRAAANK!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for their reviews.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 2

"Megan? What's wrong? Megan?" Frank shouted, dashing down the stairs, taking the steps three at a time. "Megan?" He heard Joe's footsteps thundering in from the family room. Megan's screams continued as he hurtled down the steps. Frank tore down the hallway and flung himself through the kitchen door.

Megan stood with her back against the wall next to the door. One hand covered her mouth; the other was splayed flat against the wall. Her face was colorless, save for the occasional freckle dotting her nose. Her gaze was fixed on the floor across the room, her blue-green eyes wide and staring. Tiny, shrill gasps for air were all the sound she was making now; breathing in and in and in again, without corresponding exhalations.

Frank followed her gaze…and found himself staring at someone lying on the kitchen floor. A petite, blonde woman wearing black slacks and a white linen jacket. She was lying on her back, her head turned away from the horrified onlookers, but Frank didn't need to see the face.

"Mom…."

"What is it? What's happened—" Joe was at Frank's shoulder now, trying to peer past his brother into the room. "Oh God…." A wail broke from Joe's lips and he shoved his way through the door. Automatically, Frank's arm shot out to stop him.

"Wait, Joe!"

"No!" Joe struggled to free himself. Frank didn't loosen his grip, but moved with Joe across the floor. He wasn't sure if he was hanging onto Joe's arm to stop his brother's headlong rush, or because he himself needed the support.

The boys knelt beside the still form lying on the floor, and Frank stretched trembling fingers toward her neck, seeking a pulse beat.

 _Mom…Mom, what are you doing here? What happened? Why aren't you with Dad – oh my God, where is Dad?_ Frank touched his fingers to chilled skin and waited, hoping against hope. But there was no sensation beneath his fingertips. _This is like some sort of nightmare…oh, please, I want to wake up…!_ Frank looked toward Joe and shook his head slightly; no, no chance that she was alive. _What was it…a heart attack? Mom's too young…._ The elder Hardy was only half-aware of Megan's convulsive gasps behind him; for once his girlfriend was not the center and focus of his thoughts.

 _Mom – Mom, you can't be dead; you_ _can't_ _be dead! This is a mistake; it's all a mistake!_ Joe felt tears stinging his eyes, and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. _We thought you were dead once before – when the Assassins tricked us with the clones and the actress…._ Joe suddenly froze, and stared harder at the woman lying on the floor. _When we were tricked…._ He remembered how they had been deceived; manipulated into believing Laura, Callie and Vanessa had all been killed. He remembered the poisoned Halloween candles…. Joe reached out one hand toward the dead woman and gingerly, he touched her face.

"Frank…" he whispered, "Frank, look at her. Mom doesn't have earrings like that. And her hair—"

The older boy was looking now too, his dark eyes dispassionately searching the body for details. "Mom's hair is shorter. And it's a different shade of blonde. And – and I don't think she owns a jacket like this – and…her engagement ring. That's not Mom's ring." Frank seized Joe's hand in his. "It's not Mom. Oh jeez, Joe…it's not Mom!" The two clung together a moment, weak with relief.

A choked gasp from the doorway brought them back to the situation. Vanessa was standing next to Megan, holding onto the doorjamb, her face greenish-white. Megan hadn't moved; she was still standing plastered against the wall, her unwavering gaze fixed on the body she assumed was that of Laura Hardy. Frank quickly rose to his feet and went to her; he put his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently.

"Megan. Megan!" Sharp, high-pitched gasps were the only response he received. "Megan! Listen to me! It isn't—"

"Noooooooo!" It was a thin, almost soundless wail. "Nooooo…." Tears filled the wide, azure eyes and began to stream down Megan's cheeks. She shook her head, still staring at the still figure. "Laura…." Suddenly, something seemed to snap, and the little redhead began to sob hysterically. "No, no, no, nooooo…."

Frank started to shake her again, then changed his mind and caught her against him, muffling her wails. "Shhh, shhh, it's all right, Baby, it's all right. Listen to me, listen, it isn't Mom. It's someone else; it's not my mother, Megan; it's someone else." He kept repeating the words, desperately trying to break through to her, trying to make her understand.

"It's like – the clones," he heard Vanessa whisper. "And yet – it's not. There's something different…." _Vanessa remembers, too…._ Frank thought. _It's not just our imaginations, or something._

Now Joe was gently guiding Vanessa into the hallway, tugging on Frank's elbow as he passed him. "Come on, let's get the girls out of here," he murmured. "Vanessa, you look like you're going to keel over any second; come and lie down." He closed the kitchen door firmly. "We need to call the police," he said to Frank, who nodded his agreement over Megan's head.

"Yeah, I know, but—" Frank's dark eyes flicked down at his distraught girlfriend, then back up to meet Joe's.

"I'll call from upstairs, if you take care of the girls," Joe said, and turned toward the staircase. "Frank – it really isn't Mom, is it?" he added in a very small voice.

"No, Joe, it's not Mom." Frank rocked Megan in his arms soothingly. Then he caught his breath in a gasp, suddenly realizing something. "Joe—" he reminded his brother, "After you call the police – call Dad! And tell him we need him here, right away."

#####

"Frank, it's – is it – like before?" Vanessa stammered, sitting down on the couch. "A clone, or someone made to look like your mother with plastic surgery?"

"I don't know, Van." Frank frowned. "Why don't you lie down again?" he suggested. "I guess you'll have to do without an ice pack, but…." He looked around somewhat vaguely. "Um – the aspirin; I must have left the aspirin upstairs…."

"I have some aspirin in my purse," Vanessa told him. "I just didn't have a chance to take any when we were out." She delved in her bag for a moment or two, then pulled out a small box and flourished it. "I'll get some water in the bathroom." She pulled herself back to her feet.

Megan had stopped crying now, but Frank was worried by the blankness of her expression. It wasn't the first time Megan had been exposed to a dead body; Dan Sullivan had died of a bullet wound right in front of her eyes. But seeing someone she thought was Laura Hardy lying dead on the kitchen floor had thrown the girl into an emotional turmoil; Megan loved Laura second only to her own mother, and Laura returned the affection wholeheartedly.

Frank carefully walked his girlfriend over to one of the large recliner chairs and made her sit down. He knelt in front of her, and covered her hands with his own.

"Megan honey, look at me," he said softly. No response; she stared down at their entwined fingers blankly. "Megan! Look at me!" Frank repeated, more forcefully.

During the silence that followed, Frank heard Joe's muffled voice from upstairs. _H_ _e's talking to the police_ , Frank thought. He was aware of Vanessa's return from the bathroom, and his peripheral vision noted her stretching herself on the couch, but most of his attention was riveted on Megan Wright. After a period of time that felt like ten minutes to the anxious young man, but was probably closer to a minute and a half, she slowly raised her head and met his gaze with her own.

"Frank…" Her whisper was a mere breath of sound. "It's – really – really not – your mother, in there?" Hysteria was gone now; the blue-green eyes were dazed with shock, but slowly returning to normal.

"It's not Mom," Frank assured her. "It's someone who looks very much like her, but there are some differences."

"But – whoever it is…she's – dead?"

"Yes," Frank admitted. A sudden thought struck him. _Where did she come from? The house was locked; I saw Joe open the front door with his key…. But she was in the kitchen – I wonder if the back door was unlocked!_

Joe's footsteps thumping down the stairs interrupted his thoughts. The younger Hardy entered the family room, his face uncharacteristically sober.

"I called it in," he said, "but because it's the Fourth of July, most of the officers are out doing crowd control and parade duty and all that. Dispatch said it might take more than an hour for them to get someone here."

Frank winced at the thought of waiting an hour, but knew there were no alternatives. "What about Dad?" he asked.

"I got him," Joe affirmed, "But I just told him that someone had been in the house while we were all gone, and that he should come right home." Frank stared at him disapprovingly, and Joe scowled. "What did you want me to do, Frank, say 'oh, by the way, Dad, there's a dead body on the kitchen floor, and it looks just like Mom.'?" he said defensively.

"No – no, I guess that wouldn't have been a very good idea," Frank admitted.

"He said they'd come right away, but traffic downtown is so bad due to the parade being over, who knows when they'll get here?" the younger boy grumbled. He walked over to stand beside Vanessa. "Hey sugar, how does your head feel?" He stroked her hair gently.

She smiled wanly at him. "Maybe it was the shock, but I think I actually feel better. Talk about an Excedrin moment!"

Joe ran his finger across her cheek and summoned a tentative grin. "Scared it right out of you."

Frank turned back to Megan, who had been sitting quietly in the armchair, listening to the conversation. "How about you?" he asked.

"I'm – okay now," she assured him, squeezing his hand tightly. "I'm sorry for—"

"Don't worry about it. You reacted the same way anyone else in your shoes would have." Frank stood up and caught Joe's eye. "Joe…I want to – I need to look at – her. Again." He glanced at Megan. "You and Vanessa stay here."

Joe grimaced, but nodded acquiescence. "I'll come with you."

The boys walked slowly toward the closed kitchen door, both dreading what lay on the other side. Frank took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped into the kitchen. He felt Joe's encouraging grip on his shoulder as they crossed the threshold.

Nothing had changed. The woman still lay on the floor, looking alien and out of place. People might, on occasion, lie on a bedroom floor, or a family room floor…but not the kitchen. Kitchens are not rooms where one comfortably stretches out on the floor to relax. Frank and Joe walked across the room and crouched down, one on each side of the body. Although they knew it wasn't their mother, the resemblance was so striking as to be nerve-shattering. Joe felt a shudder run through his body again.

"Do you see any wounds?" Frank's rasping whisper sounded abnormally loud in the silence. "Any blood, or anything like that?"

Gingerly, Joe lifted the lapel of the white jacket, looking for signs of blood. "No. Maybe in her back…? I don't want to move her, Frank. The medical examiner—"

"No, I agree; don't move her." Frank craned his neck, looking at the floor beneath the body. "If there's a wound anywhere, it must be a very small one; I don't see blood anywhere."

"Could it have been something natural – I mean, like a heart attack, or something?"

"Could be, of course." The older boy thought about it. "Or – or poison?" He bent closer. "Or – I suppose she might have been strangled…but I don't see any marks on her throat. And her face wouldn't be so pale, if she'd been strangled."

"Maybe she was smothered with something," Joe noted somberly. He glanced around the room, seeking a possible weapon, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"We're overlooking something," Frank reminded his brother. "Just how did she get in here to die in the first place? I saw you unlock the front door when we got home."

Joe got to his feet and walked to the back kitchen door. He twisted the knob and pulled the door open, checking the lock. "Open," he stated. "Unlocked. Either she had a key to our house – or someone she was with did." He scowled in thought. "Or Mom and Dad left the back door unlocked, I suppose."

"Kind of unusual, but not completely unheard-of," Frank admitted. "If they left by the front door, and were in a hurry, locking the back door could have been overlooked." Nudged by a sudden impulse, Frank slipped his hand into the woman's jacket pockets, searching….and to his not-quite-surprise, his fingers encountered smooth metal; when he pulled the object out, he saw it was a key. "Lookee here…."

Joe approached and bent over his brother's outstretched hand; Frank was holding the key gingerly, on edge between his thumb and forefinger. "It looks like the key to the back door," the younger boy acknowledged. "But we'd have to try it to see if it fit." He watched as Frank carefully replaced the key in its pocket. "Where'd she get it?"

"Look in the hiding place," Frank directed. Joe nodded, and went out the back door to check the spot where a house key was kept concealed, for the benefit of forgetful family members.

"Nothing there," Joe reported after a moment. "Looks like our mysterious corpse knew where we keep a spare key, all right."

"I wonder if she has any identification." Frank bit his lip, uncomfortable at the thought of searching the woman's pockets again. He looked around the kitchen. "Do you see a purse or anything like that?"

"Huh-uh." Joe shook his head, after a few moments' search. "But Frank – unless she's a manufactured clone, like before, or someone made to look like Mom with plastic surgery…she's almost got to be a relative of some sort!"

Before his older brother could reply, there came the sound of car doors slamming outside, and then rapid footsteps. Both boys leaped toward the back door, and beheld their parents approaching, looking decidedly worried.

"Frank, Joe – what's this about someone being in the house?" Fenton Hardy demanded of his sons. Tall, well-built, dark-haired and dark-eyed like Frank, the detective exuded a subtle air of authority even in the most casual situations. Now, it was even more evident than usual.

"Has anything been taken?" Laura queried anxiously, trying to see past Frank's shoulder into the kitchen. "Or – or something been vandalized?"

"No, it's – it's – there's someone—" Frank stammered, unable to find words to explain.

As Laura edged past him, Frank put out his hand, hoping to halt his mother before she saw her doppelganger lying on the kitchen floor, but he was too late. She stepped into the room, followed by her husband, then stopped in her tracks, staring.

Almost in slow motion, Laura's mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound emerged. All the color drained from her smooth, tanned face, and she doubled over as if she had been punched in the stomach.

"Mom?" Joe asked, suddenly more frightened by his mother's reaction than he had been when he had first glimpsed the body, and thought it was _her_ lying there.

Laura straightened up and turned to Fenton, who looked just as shell-shocked as his wife did. "No," she finally managed to whisper. "It can't be. Tell me I'm not seeing this."

Before Fenton could answer her, Laura collapsed against him, grief washing over her like a tidal wave; too overwhelmed to even sob. Fenton clasped her tightly.

Frank and Joe looked from one parent to the other, unable to phrase the questions percolating in their minds. They were stunned at the sight of their usually serene and controlled mother reduced to such a condition. All they could manage was mute, questioning looks to Fenton. _Dad…explain this, please? What does all this mean?_

Fenton had tears in his eyes as he held his wife tight against his body, offering her what comfort he could in his embrace.

"Boys…that woman is – was…your mother's twin sister, Linda."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for the reviews.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Sparks JSH

Chapter 3

"Mom's…twin?" Joe choked out the words. "What twin? Mom doesn't have a twin—" He broke off as his mother began to sob against her husband's chest. "Mom…." Joe moved hesitantly to put his hand on her shoulder, attempting to comfort her. He was frightened by her tears and frightened by the situation.

"Mom's sister?" Frank spoke almost at the same moment. "We never knew she had a sister—"

"It's a long story," Fenton sighed. He held Laura close and patted her back gently. "Honey, don't cry so…." he murmured.

The sound of a door opening behind them made both boys turn. Megan and Vanessa stood framed by the doorway. Both girls were pale and anxious-eyed.

"We heard voices—" Megan began. "Ohhhh – Mrs. Hardy!" She moved across the kitchen towards Laura and Fenton and put her arm about Laura, gently. The weeping woman stretched one hand out blindly and felt for Megan's hand; the girl took the groping hand in her own and held it. "We were so scared it was you," Megan whispered.

Laura raised her head from Fenton's shirt front, blinking tears from her eyes. "Me?" she gulped. "Oh…I guess you would have thought that, wouldn't you?" She cast a covert glance at the woman lying on the floor. "We were…identical. People always – always got us confused…." Her voice trailed off into choked sobs once more.

"Megan – could you and Vanessa take Laura into the other room, please?" Mr. Hardy requested. "Honey, go with the girls," he urged his wife, gently turning her into Megan's embrace. Vanessa stepped to her other side, and the two girls escorted Mrs. Hardy from the room. Fenton moved deliberately to stand beside the body, and stared down at it, his face grim and set.

"Dad – what is this?" Frank demanded, trying to keep his voice low and controlled, but failing miserably. "We've never heard of Mom having a twin sister – and the first time we know about it is when she shows up dead in our kitchen?"

Fenton didn't answer. He knelt down and looked intently at the dead woman, and then automatically reached to touch a pulse point…even though it was evident to all three of them that she was dead, and had been for some time. Carefully, he did as the boys had done – checked for wounds without disturbing the body, then put his hand into her jacket pockets. Numbly, Frank and Joe watched his actions.

"Dad?" Joe tried this time. "Why didn't we know about Mom having a sister?"

Still no reply. Encountering the key, the detective pulled it out and stared at it, obviously recognizing it as one fitting the Hardy door lock. He shook his head and tried another pocket. Joe and Frank watched tensely, both of them biting back questions that their father evidently wasn't about to answer.

Fenton withdrew a small, flat wallet from the second pocket. He opened it carefully, and his sons bent over his shoulders to see what it contained.

"Linda…Kaye…Scarpetti?" Frank murmured, reading the name on the driver's license. "That's her name?"

Fenton slowly rose to his feet, still holding the wallet. "Let's go into the other room," he suggested quietly. "As I said, this is a long story….You've called the police, I take it?" he asked abruptly, glancing from one of his sons to the other.

"Yes, but they said it might be a while before they could get anyone here," Joe responded. "Most of the on-duty officers were deployed downtown for the parade…and I don't suppose the Medical Examiner ordinarily works on the Fourth of July."

His father sighed. "Medical examiners are always on call."

Fenton made sure the back door was locked, then led the way toward the family room, closely trailed by Frank and Joe. They found Laura seated on the couch, with Megan beside her and Vanessa sitting on the floor in front of them. She was still weeping softly, and Megan was holding her hand and gently patting it. When the men entered the room, all three occupants looked up.

"Fenton…"

He went swiftly to lean over his wife and kiss her cheek "There's no doubt about who it is, Laura…it's Linda, all right." He indicated the wallet he held. "ID."

"How did she…" Laura tried to steady her voice. "…die?"

Her husband shook his head. "I'm not sure. Nothing obvious, no bullets or knife wounds—I'm sorry, honey!" he broke off, as she blanched. "I don't know what caused her death…we'll just have to wait for the authorities," he concluded gently.

"Mom—Dad—please…" Joe stood in front of his parents, his blue eyes shifting frantically from one to the other. "Please, tell us…tell us…." His voice trailed off in uncertainty. _Tell us…_ _something_ _!_

Mr. and Mrs. Hardy exchanged glances, and Laura nodded. "All right," Fenton said reluctantly. "But as I told you, it's a long story. So settle down to listen."

Joe obediently sank to a seat on the floor beside Vanessa, at his mother's feet. Frank, however, shook his head and remained standing, leaning against the back of one of the recliner chairs. Megan gave him an imploring glance. _Don't be difficult!_ He could almost hear her saying it, but he frowned stubbornly and stayed where he was.

"Why haven't we ever heard about her?" Joe queried. "Where has she been?"

"I don't know where she's been," his father replied. "That's why this is such a strange thing to have happened. We haven't heard from or about her for many, many years." Fenton heaved a deep sigh, and crossed the room to sit down in his favorite recliner chair. "I guess the only way is to start at the beginning…."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you, Cheryl and Max2013, for your kind reviews.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 4

"Back when I first started work with the New York police department," Fenton began, "there was a family in New York that had dealings in nearly everything illegal, immoral, or even slightly questionable. Antonio Scarpetti reportedly had his hand in just about every underhanded deal going down at that time. Nobody could ever catch him, though—"

"What sort of underhanded dealings?" Frank cut in.

"Anything you care to name…well, actually that's not entirely true. I don't think the Scarpettis messed in the drug trade. But other than that, if it was illegal and made money, you could bet a Scarpetti – either Antonio or his brother Carlo – had a hand in the cookie jar."

Fenton leaned back, crossed his legs and continued. "There was a judge in the city's judiciary system then who had made it his life's work to bring down the Scarpetti family and all its connections. His name was Whittier – Judge Logan Whittier.

"As luck would have it, I was on traffic duty one day, when I had the occasion to pull over a big, black Lincoln town car that was both exceeding the speed limit and had run a red light. When I asked for ID, the driver got very edgy. His passenger was a middle-aged man with dark hair and snappy black eyes, who seemed to be extremely irritated with his companion for being stopped, and with me for having done it. While I was waiting to see the driver's license, I heard thumps coming from the trunk area, and I immediately called for backup – although the men in the Lincoln didn't know that.

"I was lucky; there was another patrol car less than a block away, so my backup arrived very quickly. By that time, I'd gotten the license plate radioed in, and discovered the car belonged to no other than Carlo Scarpetti himself. When the other black-and-white got there, the officer driving it managed to block Scarpetti's car so it couldn't get away. We opened the trunk – and found a man, gagged and tied hand and foot."

"Pretty incriminating!" Frank, listening intently, had to speak at this point.

Joe emitted a snort of laughter. " 'But officer, it was just a prank! Pay no attention to the gag in his mouth, or the cement block tied to his ankles!'" he quipped.

Frank shot his brother a poisonous look, wishing, not for the first time in his life, to strangle him. He realized that Joe was only attempting to ease the situation, but… _Bad timing, Joe!_ was the general gist of his feelings. Fenton, however, actually smiled at his younger son's attempt at humor.

"Joe's not all that far off the mark," he commented. "At any rate, there was enough evidence to arrest Carlo Scarpetti and his driver for more than running a red light. And for once, even the Scarpetti cadre of lawyers couldn't pop them out right away. So they were held for arraignment. Since I was the arresting officer, I had to go to court. After the court appearance, Judge Whittier asked if I would stop by his chambers for a moment before I went back to work."

Frank glanced quickly around at the others in the room, as he leaned over the back of the chair. Joe was sitting on the floor with his arm about Vanessa as they leaned against the couch, and her head rested against his shoulder. Frank found himself wondering irrelevantly whether her headache had gone away completely. Megan and Laura shared the couch, and Megan had gone into her "avidly listening" mode, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, and her chin resting upon her fists as she studied Fenton. Frank felt a pang as he remembered her sitting and gazing at _him_ that way, on a day back in September when he talked over lunch of his and Joe's work on cases. Laura was no longer crying, the elder Hardy boy noted with relief.

"When I went into the office," Fenton continued, "I didn't know what to expect. I had no idea whether the judge was angry with me about something, or what. I was searching my mind frantically, trying to think of something I had done wrong; some mistake I had made in my deposition. But Judge Whittier was kindness itself – he congratulated me on busting Carlo Scarpetti, even though he realized it had been nothing more than a lucky set of circumstances.

"I was just about to leave, when the door burst open – and in came the prettiest girl I'd ever seen in my life!" Mr. Hardy smiled reminiscently. "Little blonde thing, with big blue eyes."

Instinctively, all the teens glanced at Laura Hardy. She looked as if she was trying not to smile, although there were tears in her blue eyes.

"The judge introduced her to me as his daughter. We chatted for a minute or two, and then she left. I went back to the courtroom, because I'd left a file folder there, and I needed to pick it up. After I did that, I decided to grab a cup of coffee before I left, and that errand took me down to the basement where the cafeteria was. I finally went back up to the main floor, and was heading for the door with my coffee…when I was bumped by someone in the hall. I stumbled, and the cup of coffee took off on its own…."

" _Ohhhh!" An appalled feminine shriek cut the noise in the crowded hallway. "watch_ _out_ _! Just look what you've done!"_

 _Officer Fenton Hardy stood and stared guiltily at the scene before him: a petite blonde girl stood glaring at him, while endeavoring to scrub coffee from her apricot-colored blouse with a tissue. She wasn't getting very far with her removal attempts; the main result seemed to be a soggy wad of Kleenex._

" _Why can't you watch where you're going, you big lummox!" the girl snapped. "You've ruined this blouse!"_

 _Now Fenton realized why she looked so familiar. "Miss Whittier? I'm sorry, someone must have bumped me." He felt in his pocket for a handkerchief and held it out to her. "Maybe this will work better than that Kleenex."_

 _She ignored the offering and continued to rub at the brown stain. "How did you know my name? Who are you?"_

" _Wh—Linda, I just met you upstairs, remember? Come on, I'm really sorry about the coffee. You must think I'm a complete klutz. Let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner tonight…okay?" The tall, dark-haired young man grinned engagingly, but his smile seemed to have no effect on the girl's irritation. If anything, she looked even madder._

" _Dinner with_ _you_ _? Now_ _there's_ _an intriguing thought! Why would I want to have dinner with a man I've never seen before in my life? Let alone one who dumped coffee all over my best silk blouse! I'm sorry, Officer—" the girl glanced at Fenton's name badge, pinned to his shirt pocket. "—Hardy. But I don't think my wardrobe would take having a whole dinner spilled on it; coffee is bad enough."_

" _But – but – Linda! Don't you remember me? Fenton Hardy?" the man stammered in his confusion._

" _For…your…information…." The young woman spoke deliberately, carefully articulating each word. "I am_ _not_ _Linda Whittier. I am_ _Laura_ _Whittier. I have never seen you before. I wish I had not seen you now. And I'd like to keep it on that basis. Now…please excuse me." She swept away, her back ramrod-straight and her high heels tapping out a staccato accompaniment on the marble floor of the courthouse hallway._

 _Officer Hardy stared after her, confusion etched on his lean features and shadowing his warm brown eyes._

Fenton paused in his narrative and glanced around at his listeners. "I've seldom felt like such a fool," he added.

"That's how you met Mom?" Joe breathed. "You never told us!" he said accusingly.

"It just – never came up in conversation!" his father defended himself. "We would have told you if you'd happened to ask."

"It's incredible!" Megan murmured. She shared a look with Vanessa. "It's like something out of a movie."

The younger girl nodded agreement. "Dislike at first sight," she smiled.

Frank scowled. "How does this explain why there's a body on the kitchen floor?" he demanded crossly. He strode toward the door, paced back restlessly, then repeated the movements. His father waited patiently for him to settle.

"Don't wear a path in the carpet," Joe sniped. Ordinarily, he would have been sympathetic with his brother's feelings, but the events of the day had jangled even the ebullient Joe's nerves considerably.

Fenton cleared his throat meaningfully. " I told you it was a long story," he reminded his sons.

"I'm sorry, Dad," Frank apologized, somewhat ashamed of himself. He walked over to the couch and sat down on the other side of Megan, reaching for her hand. "Go on, please."

"I think it's someone else's turn now," his father said. "Your mother needs to pick up the story from here."

Laura flushed a little, as five pairs of eyes riveted on her face. "I suppose I do, at that," she admitted. "Fenton, some of this may be new to you, too."

 _Laura Whittier marched into the small restaurant and scanned the tables rapidly, but did not see what she was looking for. "Where is she? She's always late!" she muttered to herself in irritation. Laura didn't make a habit of being irritated, but today seemed to be an exception._

" _Miss Whittier? Over here." A deferential waiter caught her attention, and led her towards a small table at the side wall. Laura followed, still frowning._

" _What kept you?" her luncheon companion asked, calmly glancing up from studying the menu._

 _At first glance, telling Laura Whittier from her twin sister Linda was totally dependent upon the clothes they wore, and their differing hairstyles. Otherwise, it was almost impossible. Both were petite in height, small-boned and finely-formed. Wide, sky-blue eyes were shaded by long lashes; identical cheekbones flushed pink at the same moments. Luxuriant blonde hair streamed past Linda's shoulders, while Laura wore hers swept up and pinned into a French twist._

" _I had a disgusting run-in – literally! – with a disgusting rookie cop. Who took me for_ _you_ _, I might add!" Laura snapped. "I hate it when people think I'm you – and vice versa!"_

" _Oh Laura!" Linda frowned prettily. "People don't mix us up nearly so much now as they used to." She laid down her menu. "What rookie cop? You don't mean Fenton Hardy, do you? He's_ _delicious_ _!"_

" _Delicious? He's uncouth. And clumsy. He dumped coffee all over me!" Laura indicated her stained blouse with indignation. "And then he had the audacity to ask me to dinner, to make up for it! Thinking I was_ _you_ _, of course! What a Neanderthal."_

Joe choked with laughter. "Mom, did you really call Dad a Neanderthal?"

"I did indeed," his mother replied. She glanced at her husband, who looked somewhat taken aback. "You didn't make a very good impression, Fenton, if you'll recall."

He smiled ruefully. "And I tried so hard, too."

 _Over lunch, Laura told Linda in painstaking detail of her encounter with Officer Fenton Hardy; Linda returned the favor by relating_ _her_ _meeting with the young man._

" _I think Daddy introduces me to good-looking young men on purpose," Linda fussed. "He's still trying to get me uninvolved with Marco."_

" _Marco Scarpetti is bad news, Linda, and you know it." Laura stirred her coffee thoughtfully. "Daddy's got it in for the whole Scarpetti family, Marco included."_

" _It's not fair!" Linda wailed. "Marco's got nothing to do with the rest of his family and their business! He's a chef at Romano's and one day, he's even going to open his own restaurant."_

" _Legitimate or not; white sheep or not, he's part of the Scarpetti family, and that's enough for Judge Daddy." Laura's blue eyes twinkled at her twin's forlorn face._

"Judge Daddy?" Now it was Frank's turn to laugh. "You called your father 'Judge Daddy'?"

Laura smiled. "Not where he could hear us."

 _Linda leaned across the table and lowered her voice confidentially. "Laura…what did you think of Officer Hardy? Didn't you think he was cute? Those_ _eyes!_ _"_

" _Cute? That clumsy oaf…_ _cute_ _? He's tall, that much I'll say for him. Tall is good."_

" _Listen – Daddy thinks Fenton Hardy is the next best thing since the invention of handcuffs, because he managed to arrest Carlo Scarpetti."_

" _He arrested Carlo Scarpetti for a traffic violation! He just got lucky!" Laura's voice rose fractionally, dripping sarcasm. She glanced about, self-consciously, and dropped the volume. "But what does that have to do with anything?"_

" _I want you to do something for me. Go out with him, Laur – just a couple of times. And while you are out with him, casually mention that you're concerned about me because of the connection with the Scarpetti family. If you make him think that I'm in danger, and that maybe you're in danger, he'd turn heaven and earth to find out if Marco is crooked!"_

 _Laura stared at her sister in confusion. "Lin, you've been telling everyone who will listen for months now that Marco is pure as the driven snow. Why should I date that arrogant barbarian to prove that he's not?"_

 _Linda rolled her eyes. "Because, sister dear, he won't_ _find_ _anything about Marco, and when he tells you that, he can also tell Daddy. And Daddy will believe him. Judge Daddy thinks he a shining star!"_

" _What makes you think Fenton Hardy could find his way out of a paper bag, much less find proof to make Daddy believe Marco can be trusted? The guy couldn't even hold onto his coffee, for Pete's sake!" Laura scoffed. "I am_ _not_ _going to go out with that 'I'm a cop, hear me roar' Fenton Hardy just because you want Daddy to lay off your boyfriend!"_

" _Please, Laura…we're twins, remember? If we don't back each other up, who will? I need you on this! What harm could a couple of dates do…if it means I can see Marco without being afraid that Daddy is going to shoot him. Besides…you might like him – Officer Hardy, I mean."_

 _Laura snorted disdainfully. "Yes, like I'd like a root canal!" She stared at her sister a moment. "If I do this – and I'm not saying I will! – you owe me._ _Big __time_ _!"_

" _I knew you'd do it!" Linda exulted. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!" She bounced in triumph for a moment, then settled into her chair again. "Now…when could you see him?"_

" _Linda! Stop being so ridiculous! I am absolutely_ _not_ _going out of my way to see Fenton-Clumsy Oaf-Hardy again…but if the opportunity presents itself, I won't automatically dismiss the idea. And that is as far as I go – understand?"_

" _I understand." Linda's mouth curved into a satisfied smile._

"She understood, all right," Mrs. Hardy said softly. "And she immediately made sure that the opportunity presented itself. That's one thing about Linda – she left nothing to chance!"


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you very much, Cherylann, LaurieQ and Max2013 for your kind reviews!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 5

"After lunch, Linda went…wherever it was that Linda went," Mrs. Hardy went on, speaking quietly, but with soft amusement in her tones. "I had a class to go to, and then went on to the public library, because I needed to check out a couple of books. I stayed there and studied. And that's where I spent my afternoon. I had no idea what was going to happen later…."

 _Linda Whittier was never one to leave things to chance. She wanted Laura to secure Fenton Hardy's help in her campaign to make her father acknowledge Marco Scarpetti's worth, to make "Judge Daddy" admit that Marco was inherently worthy of marrying her. She immediately started putting things in motion to get the results she desired._

" _Hey, Hardy! Phone!" the desk sergeant bawled, as Fenton Hardy walked through the precinct station house's main lobby. The rookie cop was surprised. Who could be calling him, especially here, at work? He nodded his thanks to the sergeant, and picked up the indicated line._

 _"Hardy here." He tried his best to sound businesslike and calm._

 _"Officer Hardy?" The voice was soft and feminine, and somehow familiar. "This is Linda Whittier. We met this morning, in my father's chambers at the courthouse. Do you remember?"_

 _"M-miss Whittier? Y-yes, I remember," Fenton stammered. " Linda Whittier, right?" he emphasized the name._

 _"Yes, it's Linda." A small ripple of laughter. "I understand you met my sister Laura a bit later. I heard about it at lunch. It's because of that meeting that I'm calling, actually. I wanted to apologize for Laura's behavior. She usually isn't so – so…"_

 _"Snobbish?"_

 _"Well…I was thinking of saying 'haughty' but I suppose snobbish would fit. She's had a lot on her mind lately; she's very busy with her classes."_

 _"Classes?" Fenton mentally kicked himself; couldn't he do anything except repeat what Linda was saying?_

 _"Yes, she's a junior at City College of New York. Which brings me to the second reason I called."_

 _"A second reason?" Another mental kick._

 _"Yes, I need a favor. I'm supposed to pick her up at the public library in ten minutes, and I still have to run an errand for Daddy. I hate to impose, but I thought possibly you might…?" Linda left the sentence dangling suggestively._

 _The young man nervously cleared his throat. "Uh – well, I did just get off duty. But I'm not sure at all that she'd want to see me. Especially not after I spilled coffee all over her. I ruined her blouse, more than likely."_

 _"That old rag?" Another ripple of laughter came across the wires. "She's been looking for an excuse to get rid of it. Believe me, she'd much rather you pick her up than for me to leave her stranded. She can't stand waiting on me, and I always seem to run late…."_

 _Fenton suffered a sudden qualm. He was taking the squad car home tonight. How would Miss Laura-Haughty-Whittier feel about being picked up in a black-and-white?_

 _"Well—if you're sure she wouldn't mind me picking her up, I'd be glad to do it."_

 _"Of course she wouldn't mind! Now, you know where the library is, right?"_

 _###_

 _"I came out of the library right on time, and stood there on the steps, waiting for Linda to arrive," Laura said. "I was used to her being late – she was almost always late. But she always had a plausible reason for it."_

 _When the NYPD squad car swept across her field of vision, Laura noted it, but paid no special attention. Although a police car arriving at the library was somewhat unusual, it wasn't unheard of. She kept scanning the vehicles moving past, hoping to spot Linda._

 _BEEP! BEEP!_

 _Laura jumped, startled, and looked toward the sound. The horn-honk had come from the police car. She glared…and then froze. "Ohhhh, no!" she muttered to herself. "This is absolutely not happening! This time Linda's gone too far." Resolutely, she turned away and stared in the opposite direction._

 _"Miss Whittier?"_

 _Laura ground her teeth and refused to turn her head._

 _There was the sound of a car door being opened and shut. "Miss Whittier? Laura? Your sister asked me to pick you up here – she was delayed, and didn't want you to have to wait for her…." Fenton Hardy's voice trailed off uncertainly in the face of Laura's icy demeanor._

 _Given the choice of standing there and looking foolish or getting in a squad car with an earnest young policeman, Laura decided she'd rather go home than stand on the library steps all evening. She didn't want to take a taxi, and she knew Linda was quite capable of leaving her there for hours – all in a good cause, of course!_

 _She turned to Officer Hardy and forced a smile. "Thank you. It's very kind of you to do this."_

 _With a smile that lighted his whole face and made his brown eyes glow, Fenton swept open the passenger door of the black-and-white, and gestured for Laura to enter. "At your service, Miss." After she was seated, he gently closed it, then rounded the back of the car and got into the driver's seat._

 _Laura glanced around at the accoutrements that made this vehicle a police car rather than a private one. "I feel like I've been arrested!" she commented, not entirely joking._

 _Fenton laughed. "If I was arresting you, I'd have put you in the back seat – behind that little wire mesh fence!"_

 _She couldn't quite bite back her laughter. "I don't think I'd like being back there." She reached to fasten her seat belt, and books cascaded off her lap onto the floor. "Oh darn it!"_

 _"I'll get them." The young officer unsnapped his own seat belt and leaned to scoop up the books. " 'Under the Lilacs'? You don't see too many people reading that; usually it's just 'Little Women'. I liked 'Eight Cousins' best, myself."_

 _Laura blinked in surprise. " You're familiar with Louisa May Alcott?" she blurted, and blushed. "Excuse me, that sounded rude, I know." Inside, she was thinking: Well! There may be hope for you yet!_

 _"I read a lot," Fenton said mildly. He handed her the books and re-fastened his safety belt. "I read everything I can get my hands on. Even Louisa May Alcott." He put the car into gear and eased away from the curb. "What classes are you taking?"_

 _"I'm majoring in literature," she replied. "This is a class on 19th Century Women Authors."_

 _"Is it interesting?" he asked._

 _"Very much," Laura answered. "But I don't want to bore you by talking about it."_

 _"I'm not bored – but I want to say something, before we get too far afield. I'm sorry I mistook you for your sister, earlier today. Now that I've met you both, I won't make that mistake again." He gave her a quick glance before returning his attention to the surrounding traffic. "I didn't think it was possible for there to be two girls as pretty as you in the building."_

 _Laura found herself blushing and at a loss for words. Why had she thought this young police officer boorish and disgusting? She tried frantically to frame a response, but Fenton was continuing._

 _"I won't make that mistake again. You two may be twins, but I think your eyes are a deeper shade of blue…and you have a softer smile."_

###

"Wow!" Joe murmured, ostensibly to Vanessa, but loud enough for the others to hear. "I never knew Dad could reel off a line like that!"

"Now we know where you get it," she answered – and grinned as both Joe and Fenton turned exquisite shades of red.

"Laura, how can you remember all this, after so many years?" Fenton demanded, not sure he was pleased with where the conversation seemed to be going.

She smiled at him. "I just can."

###

 _"Look, I'm really sorry about spilling that coffee on you. Please, won't you allow me to pay for the dry cleaning?_

 _"It really isn't necessary." Laura couldn't believe she was saying those words. It was her favorite silk blouse, for heaven's sake! But she said them, just the same._

 _"Then will you at least let me make it up to you by allowing me to take you to dinner? There's a wonderful little Italian restaurant near here that the guys at the precinct have been talking about—"_

 _"Italian restaurant?"_

 _"Yes." Fenton put all his considerable charm into his voice. "We could discuss 19th century literature…."_

 _###_

"So I went to dinner with him," Laura said, smiling across the room at her husband. "And he managed not to spill anything on me. And we talked about literature…and music…and his career as a policeman…and what it's like to have a twin sister." The smile dimmed, as Laura's words recalled to her the quiet figure lying on the kitchen floor. Tears began to roll down her cheeks once again.

"Oh, Mrs. Hardy – please, don't cry any more!" Megan leaned to hug her tightly, and Joe turned around from his seat on the floor and laid his head in her lap as a gesture of comfort. Laura smoothed his blonde hair gently, and dabbed at her streaming eyes with a tissue.

"I'm sorry, but remembering her then, and seeing her now – it's difficult not to," Laura gulped. She wiped her eyes again, then summoned a smile for her listeners. "I'm okay now."

"Please go on with the story, Mom." Frank leaned past Megan to make the request. "It's fascinating…."

###

 _"We went to the Italian restaurant that your father had mentioned," Laura resumed her narrative. "As it happened, it was Romano's – the place where Marco Scarpetti was one of the chefs. But despite Linda's pressuring at lunch, and the fact that we were right there where Marco worked…I never mentioned the Scarpetti family that evening. I never even thought about it. After we finished eating, we sat there and drank coffee and talked – and talked – and talked some more. I found out Officer Fenton Hardy wasn't the crude, obnoxious Neanderthal I'd originally dubbed him. And hopefully, he found out that I wasn't quite as high-hat and snobbish and superior as he had thought me."_

 _###_

 _When Laura Whittier walked into her home that night, she knew she was in for a grilling from both her parents and from her sister. But for some reason, she didn't much care. Her head was spinning from her evening's experiences. She closed the front door and set her schoolbooks down on the hall table while she hung her coat in the closet._

 _"Laura?" A cultured, modulated voice floated through the hall, and in a moment, Isabelle Whittier appeared. She was a tall woman with blonde hair just beginning to go silvery; dressed in a long blue-velvet housecoat. "It's ten o'clock, dear! Where in the world have you been all evening?"_

 _"Hello, Mom!" Laura hugged her mother briefly. "I went out to dinner with someone. Linda set it up; didn't she tell you?"_

 _"Ye-e-s-s-s…" Isabelle's tone indicated some doubt. "She said she thought you were going out to dinner, but I had no idea dinner would last this late. And who was it you were with?"_

 _Laura sighed inwardly; this would have to be faced some time, but why did it have to be now? "Someone I met at the courthouse today – his name is Fenton Hardy. He's a police officer for the NYPD."_

 _"A police officer?" Isabelle sounded slightly shocked. "You don't usually go out with police officers, Laura…." Somehow, she made it sound as if Laura had committed a grave social error._

 _"What's this about going out with Fenton Hardy?" Judge Logan Whittier entered the hallway and kissed his daughter's cheek. "You couldn't find a better man to see, Laura; he's going to have a bright career ahead of him! Fine fellow, fine fellow!"_

 _"Logan – a policeman?" Isabelle was still protesting. "What do you know about him? Do we know his family?"_

 _"Mother, I don't need to know his antecedents or his pedigree to know that I like him!" Laura said irritably. "Now, since you reminded me that it's late, I think I'll go to bed. Good night, Daddy, good night, Mother." She hurried up the stairs, anxious to get away from parental discussions of her social life…but when she reached her room, another hurdle loomed: Linda._

 _"Laur! How did it go? Was it a complete horror show, or is he as nice as he is cute?"_

 _"He's very nice." Laura answered her twin with as much composure as she could muster. "We had a lovely dinner."_

 _"I've been waiting and waiting all evening, to find out what happened!" Linda chattered excitedly, flopping onto Laura's bed and watching her sister gratefully remove her high heels. "What did he say when you asked him to investigate Marco?"_

 _"Marco?" Uh-oh, I forgot all about Marco! Laura thought. "Uh – it didn't come up in the conversation, Lin…I'm sorry."_

 _" What?" Linda nearly shrieked the word. Laura made a shushing gesture, and Linda dropped her voice, but an angry hiss was as effective as a shriek. "You were supposed to talk to him about Marco and the Scarpettis; that's the whole reason I set up the date!"_

 _"I'm sorry, but I just forgot about it!" Laura said defensively. "I'll mention it tomorrow night, all right?"_

 _"Tomorrow night?" Linda stared at her twin. "You're seeing him again tomorrow?"_

 _"That's right." Laura smiled – the smile that Fenton had said was so soft and sweet. "We're going to the symphony; I told him I had an extra ticket."_

 _"That's my ticket!" Linda screeched. "What happened to 'Fenton Hardy, the uncouth, clumsy oaf', anyway?"_

 _Laura smiled whimsically. "Maybe I was just a little hasty when I said that. He's not a total Neanderthal after all."_

 _###_

The sound of the doorbell chimes echoed through the Hardy home, jerking the six occupants out of their story-induced trance. They all looked around, startled, and Fenton rose to his feet and headed for the front door. "That will probably be the police," he said as he walked out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you very much, Cherylann, LaurieQ, Lenae (Guest) and Max2013 for your kind reviews!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 6

When Fenton Hardy opened the front door, he was hit with a blast of hot air from outside that felt like it had come from a suddenly opened furnace. The two people standing on the front porch, one in a dark uniform, the other wearing street clothes, looked miserable.

"When I heard a call had come in from your place, I pulled rank and came myself," Detective Lieutenant Con Riley grunted. "What's this about a body, Fenton?"

"Come in out of this heat," Fenton urged the officers into the entry, and closed the door hastily. Both Con and his companion, a tall, dark-haired woman in her early thirties, breathed sighs of relief as the cooler air inside washed over them.

"This is Detective Susan O'Grady," Con indicated the woman. "Sue, meet Fenton Hardy – and his sons, Frank and Joe," he added, as the boys came into the hallway. As the others exchanged nods, Con again asked the pertinent question: "What's going on? The medical examiner is on his way," he added.

"Come with me." Mr. Hardy led the way toward the kitchen. Con and Detective O'Grady followed, with Joe and Frank on their heels.

"My God!" Con took one look at the body and leaned against the kitchen table, his face going white beneath its tan. "Laura?"

"No – no, Con; no, it's not Laura!" the investigator hastened to reassure his friend. "It's her twin sister, Linda."

"Her twin sister?" the policeman said in disbelief. "I didn't know your wife had a twin sister!"

"We haven't kept in touch for years," Mr. Hardy admitted. "This is a considerable shock for all of us."

"Yes, I should think so," Riley muttered. "Is Laura here?"

"Yes, she's in the family room. You don't need her, do you, Con? Seeing Linda…she's pretty upset."

"I don't need to see her right now, no." Riley straightened up. "But you're sure of the identity, right?"

Fenton fished in the pocket of his slacks and brought out Linda's slim wallet. "This was in her jacket pocket."

The policeman glanced at the driver's license and nodded shortly. "Sue, you got things underway? Good, let's start with statements."

#####

The four teenagers were questioned by Con and Detective O'Grady. Megan, having found the body, received the most attention, but O'Grady allowed her to have Frank with her during questioning; with her hand secure in his, the little redhead quietly recited the events that had occurred when she had walked into the kitchen and discovered a body she thought was Laura Hardy's.

Fenton and Laura, having arrived on the scene later, were asked a minimum of questions and then excused. They walked into Fenton's study and sat down, staring at each other somewhat blankly.

"Fenton, what can this mean?" Laura whispered. "Linda – appearing out of nowhere after all these years…and not just appearing, but – but – dying."

"I don't know, honey. But we'll get to the bottom of it, I promise you that." Fenton pulled Linda's wallet out once again. "I'll have to be sure to give this to Con before he leaves, but he left it with me for the time being." He opened it up once again and stared down at the photo ID for a moment, then began examining the contents more thoroughly. "Credit cards….organ donor card…money – hmmm, over one hundred dollars in cash – a photo – no, more than one." He held out the wallet to Laura, who took it in trembling fingers. "It's got to be a picture of Marco – he looks the same, only twenty years older….And look at this one!" He indicated a snapshot of a young girl, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked to be 14 or 15 years old. "That's not Linda when she was young, is it? Or – you?"

"No, that's a recent photo," Laura replied. "Do you suppose…Fenton, do you think Linda and Marco had children?" Tears began trickling down her cheeks again. "To think that the boys might have a cousin they don't know about…."

Mr. Hardy's mouth quirked in a half-smile. "They're still reeling from the shock of an aunt they didn't know about! Let's not startle them with speculations just yet. We don't know who this might be."

#####

Finally, the police and the coroner departed, and the body of Linda Scarpetti was taken to the morgue. The Hardys, Megan and Vanessa gathered once more in the family room, huddling together in shared shock and dismay. Outside, there was heat and firecrackers and a joyful celebration of a nation's birthday. Inside was the chilling knowledge that a family member, albeit an unfamiliar one, had entered the Hardys' home and died there. It was an unsettling thought.

"Mom, could you go on now?" Frank was settling back onto the couch between his mother and Megan. "It sounds like you and your sister were close. I still don't understand why we never heard about her."

"Yeah," Joe chimed in, sitting down in one of the recliners. Vanessa again chose the floor, leaning back against Joe's knees, and stretching her long legs out in front of her.

"I suppose I need to finish the story," Laura acknowledged, with a sad smile. "Feel free to add anything you think of," she added to Fenton, as he handed around glasses of ice water and then sat down in his favorite chair once more.

"Where did I leave off? Oh yes, the symphony…."

 _Laura Whittier tripped up the staircase of her home, humming softly. Despite the chilly December night, she felt warm and glowing all over. The symphony concert had been delightful from beginning to end…and the companionship had been too. This had been the third concert she and Fenton had attended since their meeting six weeks ago, and this was decidedly the best. I love Christmas music! she thought happily._

" _Is that you, Laura?" Mrs. Whittier called from the living room, where she was ensconced with a book in front of the blazing fireplace. "Did you have a nice time, dear?"_

" _Very nice," Laura called down over the banisters. "I'm going to bed now, Mother."_

" _Good night," her mother responded._

 _Laura went into her bedroom and proceeded to prepare for bed. Just after she climbed under the covers, however, there came a soft tap on her door._

" _Yes?"_

 _Linda opened the door and entered the room. She crossed over to Laura's bed and plopped herself on the foot._

" _I saw Marco tonight!" she beamed. "Isn't that_ _wonderful_ _?"_

" _Does Daddy know?" Laura felt a twinge of anxiety._

" _No! And he's not going to find out, either!" Linda snapped, her smile fading._

" _Linda, what you're doing – it's dangerous! You know Daddy doesn't want you seeing Marco Scarpetti," Laura warned gently. "Even though Fenton assured him that Marco was absolutely on the straight and narrow." She smiled to herself, as she mentioned the name…._

" _But Laura!" her sister wailed. "I love him! I've_ _got_ _to see him!" Linda's jaw set in determination. "I want to marry him."_

 _Laura gazed sadly at her twin. She knew Linda was facing an impossible dilemma._

 _###_

"And two weeks later, it was Christmas…" Laura said. She gave her husband a long, smiling look. "Christmas Eve. It started snowing about 6:00 that evening…."

 _Fenton helped Laura settle herself in the carriage, tucking the blanket securely around them both. "Warm enough?"_

" _Yes, it's lovely." Laura leaned her head against his shoulder, as the carriage driver clucked to the horse, and they moved out, along the broad pathway through Central Park. "You have the nicest ideas!" The young man took her hand in his, clasping it tightly._

 _For a time, they rode in silence, the noise of traffic softened by the soft_ _ **shhhhing**_ _of the falling snow, only the quiet sounds of the horse's hoofs clip-clopping on the paved surface. In the distance, a carillon of church bells pealed Christmas carols into the soft dusk._

 _Once deep into the park, Fenton sat a little straighter, and fished beneath the blanket, reaching into his pocket. "It's time to give you your Christmas gift." He laughed softly, and clicked a tiny flashlight on, so that Laura could see._

" _But – yours is back at the house—" Laura protested, mildly upset by the inequity._

" _Doesn't matter." He presented her with a tiny, square box, crowned with the tiniest silver bow she had ever seen. "Merry Christmas, Laura."_

 _She stared at the box, mesmerized; then turned her eyes to meet his. "Fenton…."_

" _Open it."_

 _With trembling fingers, she pried the lid up – and gasped. Poised on its bed of white velvet was a diamond ring; the central stone marquis-cut and set at an angle. On either side, tiny blue sapphires accented the sparkling diamond._

" _The sapphires are to match your eyes," Fenton murmured._

" _Oh – Fenton…it's so beautiful…!"_

" _Laura – will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"_

 _Eyes glowing more brightly than the sapphires, Laura Whittier nodded her head._

Laura paused, and then laughed softly as two identical long sighs followed her last words.

"Ohhhh….!" Megan whispered. "On Christmas Eve, in Central Park? How romantic!"

"Ohhhh, that's so sweet!" Vanessa said, at the same time.

Fenton and the boys looked slightly embarrassed, although Frank caught himself wondering just where _he_ might choose – that is, of course, if a situation ever arose where he wanted to do something like that!

 _When the carriage ride ended, the newly engaged couple went back to the Whittier home, where Laura's ring was duly oooh-ed and ahhh-ed over by her parents and sister. Laura noted, however, that although Linda put up a good front, she looked sad when she thought she was unobserved. Linda wished with all her heart that a similar ring might be adorning_ _her_ _left hand, and despite her honest delight in Laura's happiness, she felt a pang of envy, too._

 _The week between Christmas and New Year's was busy with various activities, which suddenly included deciding on all sorts of wedding details. For Laura and Fenton had announced that they didn't care to wait forever before marrying, and had set their wedding date for Valentine's Day. Mrs. Whittier had been nearly overwhelmed at the thought of organizing a wedding in two months, but she had rallied, and now was turning every ounce of organizational skill she possessed to creating a perfect wedding for her daughter._

" _Laura – what would you think of having a double wedding?" Linda bounced into her sister's room in her usual fashion, the day before New Year's Eve._

" _A double wedding?" Laura stared. "Lin, if you mean Marco and you – Judge Daddy will never, ever agree to that!"_

" _Marco has asked me to marry him, and I've said yes," Linda reported grimly. "If Daddy and Mother don't approve – well, it will be just too bad. I'm going to marry him, come hell or high water!" She gazed at her sister then, a much softer look coming into her blue eyes. "I want very much to have their approval, Laur. I want a big church wedding, with all the frills, and you and I as each others' maids of honor and a half-dozen bridesmaids. I want it, Laur – but if I can't have that, I'll take what I can get. But please – please, Twin! Please, back me up when I tell Daddy…won't you?"_

 _Laura nodded – but inside she felt cold. She knew Linda's dreams weren't going to come true._

"That night, Linda broached the subject to our parents. We both knew what was likely to happen – and it did. Our father simply refused to even consider the matter. He said there was no way he would ever consent to Linda marrying Marco Scarpetti. She reminded him that she was 21, and could do as she pleased; she didn't need his consent, but she was asking for his approval and blessing." Laura shook her head sadly. "Things got very, very bitter then. Daddy said: 'Over my dead body!' when Linda announced that she and Marco wanted to share a double wedding with Fenton and me. She came right back at him with this: 'If Marco was as bad as you seem to think he is, that could be arranged!'"

"Wow!" Joe whistled softly. "What happened then?"

"That rocked our father back on his heels for a moment or two," his mother replied. "We didn't often see him speechless, but he was then. It didn't last long, though – and then he made the final, irrevocable decision. He told Linda that she was of age, and he couldn't stop her from marrying Marco. He said: 'But if you leave this house with that man, you're no longer our daughter. And when his true colors come out, and he hurts you, don't think you can come crawling back to me. Once out that door – it's closed to you forever.'"

"Oh, no!" Megan exclaimed. Tears slipped down her cheeks. "How could he?"

"He was a very proud and stubborn man," Fenton said. "And although he loved his daughters, he was so sure he was right about Marco Scarpetti and the rest of his clan, that nothing would change his viewpoint."

"Linda left that night," Laura went on sadly. "She was angry with our parents, and she was angry with me, for not supporting her strongly enough, and insisting that Marco and she share our wedding." She blinked back tears. "It was bad enough that she left…and then things got worse."

"What happened then?" Frank demanded.

Laura shook her head briefly, and pressed her lips together, unable to speak. From his seat across the room, Fenton took up the tale once again.

"We decided to hold off on the wedding plans after all, since things were so terribly upset. We changed the date to the middle of May—"

Frank frowned thoughtfully. He knew his parents' anniversary was in June.

"—but in April, tragedy struck. Judge Whittier and his wife went sailing – it was beautiful, warm weather. A sudden squall arose, and the boat capsized. For some unknown reason, neither of them was wearing a life jacket…" He paused and cleared his throat. "Neither one survived."

The boys nodded. This much, they had heard before; that their grandparents had perished in a boating accident, and they knew that it had taken a great deal of persuasion on their parts, when they were younger, to convince Laura that they should be allowed to have the _Sleuth_. She had hated the idea of her sons having a boat; only the fact that it was a power boat and not a sailboat had made it palatable to her.

"After Mother and Daddy were killed, I tried to contact Linda, to tell her. Even though I knew she was hurt and angry, I thought she would want to come to the funeral. We had talked on the phone a few times – Marco was still a chef at Romano's, of course – but she was very cool and distant. Of course she read about our parents' accident in the newspapers, I'm sure. But when I tried to call her, all I could get was the answering machine at their apartment. I tried the restaurant, but never seemed to call when Marco was able to come to the telephone." Laura shook her head sadly, remembering. "After the funeral – when Linda didn't come, and didn't send a message…I knew it was no use."

"And you never saw her again?" Frank choked out the words. He tried to imagine what it would have been like for his mother to lose her sister in this fashion; what it would feel like for him to lose _Joe_ in a way like that.

"No," his mother said. "Dad and I postponed the wedding another month – and then had a very small ceremony. Sam Peterson and his wife were there – as our witnesses – and that was all. I would dearly have loved Linda to be there – Linda and Marco both! – but it just wasn't to be."

"No contact at all?" Joe sounded incredulous.

"Not until today," Laura replied. "I suppose she's been living in New York City, but then again, she and Marco may not have been – perhaps they aren't even still married—Oh!" she broke off, stunned. "Marco! Fenton – we have to try and find him; tell him Linda's…."

"I know," her husband nodded heavily. "I'm sure the police will try to contact him, honey. And I'll try – tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow we'll know something more, from the autopsy."

"So why would she show up now?" Vanessa inquired. "After so many years, why did she show up out of the blue – just in time to die in your kitchen?"

Mr. Hardy looked at her with a smile of approval. "That's a very good question, Vanessa. Why did she suddenly turn up, after so many years."

"I have another question," Megan interposed. "How did your sister get into the house today, Mrs. Hardy? Weren't the doors locked?"

"She had a key in her pocket," Joe began, and Frank spoke at nearly the same time:

"She got the key from the hiding place in the back yard." The elder boy frowned. "How would she have known where to look, anyway?"

Laura turned pink. "I think I can explain that," she said. Fenton gave her a look – a long, steady look, and his dark eyes twinkled. "We keep the key in that fake rock in the flowerbed, you know…."

"That's the most ridiculous place to keep a house key!" her husband put in. "That's one of the first places they teach you to look in Burglary 101."

"Well, it's the same place we had one at home when Linda and I were growing up," Laura continued. She began to laugh. "Listen – Linda was always forgetting her house key, so she depended on the key in that rock. One night when we were in high school, we had an argument – all right, we had a fight – before she went out. I knew she intended to stay out past curfew and sneak back in."

"I think you and Linda are soul mates," Frank observed quietly to his brother. Joe growled softly under his breath.

"When I saw that she hadn't taken her key, I sneaked outside and took the key out of the rock. When she got home – at whatever time it was – she found that she was locked out. She knew that she would either have to wake everyone up, and take her punishment for being out late…or she would have to sleep outside, and risk getting in trouble if Mother and Daddy found out that she'd not slept in her bed."

"What happened?" Vanessa demanded, her gray-blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

"She slept outside. When Mother discovered Linda asleep in the hammock I was sure Linda was in for it…." Laura sighed and laughed ruefully. "I didn't count on Linda's sneakiness. She began to cry, and explained that she had gotten home at 11:00 only to discover that someone had removed the key from the rock. Everyone was already asleep, she said, so rather than wake everyone up, she slept in the hammock. So I ended up getting in trouble for taking the key, and Linda got off scott-free."

Laughter erupted from all the listeners. Joe looked at Frank.

"Don't get any ideas," he warned.

"So Linda knew where to look for a key," Laura concluded.

"I've always fussed at you not to leave that key there," Fenton commented now. "But I'm very glad that you didn't listen to me." He frowned thoughtfully. "But Vanessa's question still stands. Why now? No letters, no telephone calls—"

Frank slapped his forehead. "Telephone calls? What if she did call? Nobody's thought to check the answering machine!" He leaped to his feet and hurried to the desk at the side of the room, where the answering machine sat. "There are some messages!" he announced triumphantly, and hit the playback button. A few moments of quiet, then the first message began.

 _"Laura, it's Linda. Please don't erase this without listening to it. I know I don't deserve it, but I need your help. I have to get away from him! I'm going to try to get away from here and make it to your house. I'll call you later, if I can."_

The listeners stared at each other, shocked.

"Get away from him?" Megan whispered, but before anyone could answer her, another message began.

" _Laura, why aren't you home? Don't you know how much I need you? I slipped away without him knowing it. I don't have much time – but I need you and Fenton…I need your protection. I'm scared that he's going to find me before I get to you. If he does, he'll kill me for sure."_

Fenton rose to his feet and strode over to join his eldest son by the desk. He was listening intently, all detective now, rather than a worried brother-in-law. A third message was beginning.

" _Laura…I don't know if I'm going to make it there…I'm going to die soon, I know that. If I don't get to you – oh Twin, I missed you so much, all these years! I'm sorry for everything. Please take care of Tinkerbelle, she'll be in so much danger when I'm gone. Protect her from…."_

With a soft _click_ , the message tape ended.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for the reviews of Chapter 6. I'm glad you're still interested!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 7

Frank Hardy blinked bleary eyes at the digital readout of his clock radio: 7:38 a.m. He sighed and shoved back the covers; despite his weariness, he wanted to get up – there was too much that needed to be done today to stay in bed.

He heard noises coming from the bathroom that connected his room and Joe's: the unmistakable sounds of gargling, the _snap_ of a toothbrush smacked against the edge of the sink; the soft buzzing of Joe's electric razor. Frank grinned a little. _Baby Brother's going to be in a foul mood this morning…well, let's get up and get the snapping over with!_ He got out of bed and went to the bathroom door; opened it gently and surveyed the scene.

Joe was leaning against the counter, bleakly staring at his reflection in the mirror. The opening door caught his attention, and he turned his head toward his brother.

"What are you doing up?" he muttered crossly.

"It's time to be up," Frank replied innocently.

"Frank, sometimes I wonder if you're related to me! Here it is July 5th – we didn't get in from taking the girls to the fireworks display until almost 1 a.m., and you're up at 7:30….when you don't have to be!" Joe nearly shouted the last words.

"So are you – up, I mean," Frank pointed out, trying to hide a grin.

"Yeah, but only because I have to. You don't have flights scheduled today with Jack, so you could sleep all day, if you wanted to! Me, on the other hand – I have to be at the field by 8:30 to load cargo!" the younger boy growled. "We should switch places; if I could, I know I'd sleep all day!"

Frank laughed humorlessly. "Little brother, you may have a paying job before you today, but I'm going to be working as well. Since Dad is going to try to backtrack mom's sister's – I still can't believe we have an aunt we never knew about! – trip here, I thought I'd go to the police station to see if I can find out what they've come up with."

"Autopsy results won't be in yet," Joe pointed out. "Even the coroner gets time off on the Fourth of July. If we're lucky, he may do the autopsy today but the results wouldn't be back until this afternoon at the earliest."

"I know," Frank nodded, his dark eyes somber. "But maybe they've been able to find out something….oh, I don't know, Joe! I just know I can't not do anything! I can't sit at home and wait; I need to try and find out what's going on."

#####

After they had heard the fateful phone messages from Linda Scarpetti, the Hardys, Vanessa and Megan had felt shaken anew. Laura had broken down in tears once again, anguished at hearing her sister's voice and horrified at the words spoken. Fenton had managed to convince his distraught wife to go upstairs, to try and rest for awhile, and he accompanied her, to make certain she did so. When he returned, he found the four teens still sitting glumly silent in the family room.

"Kids," Mr. Hardy said gently, "I know this has been a terrible shock to you all. But there's nothing you can do, right now, and I don't want you having the rest of the day completely ruined."

Megan raised miserable turquoise eyes. "It already is," she whispered.

Mr. Hardy patted her shoulder soothingly. "Megan, I'm sorrier than I can say, for what happened to you." When no one responded, the detective continued. "Come on, Frank, Joe – I want you four to go back down to the Fun Center, and try to forget this for a while. Stay down there the rest of the evening, and watch the fireworks display."

"Dad—we don't want—" Joe began, but Fenton raised a hand to cut him off.

"Please, Joe. Don't make me feel guilty." Mr. Hardy smiled, making sure Joe realized he was teasing. "I'd feel a lot better if you four would go out and make your best effort to have a good time," he went on. "Your mother is – hopefully – going to be asleep for the rest of the night. I'll do what I can, from here, to start tracing Linda's movements backwards, but it will be precious little, considering the holiday."

Frank caught Joe's eye and nodded slightly. He realized that his father was right; they needed to try to save what was left of the day, since they could do nothing about Linda Scarpetti's demise. "Okay Dad, we'll do it." He got to his feet and extended a hand to Megan. "Come on, Baby, I still want to buy you that cotton candy."

Summoning a smile, she put her hand in his as she rose. "Make it caramel corn, and you're on."

#####

Now Joe was nodding thoughtfully, sobered by the memory of yesterday's occurrence. "Maybe I shouldn't go in to work. Those phone messages sounded ominous – someone was after her. You might need my help, Frank – Jack would understand—"

"Whoa, whoa." Frank shook his head. "Jack would understand, true, but I think you should go to work. We may both need time off later, but let's not leave Jack in the lurch just yet."

"I suppose you're right." Joe sighed, and picked up a comb to run through his hair. "I'll go on in, and you see what you can find out down at police headquarters. I'll be home as soon as I can."

Laura was in the kitchen when the boys came downstairs. She was pale, and her eyes were swollen, but she smiled at her sons when they entered the kitchen, and indicated the places set at the table.

"Breakfast is ready; I know you have to leave soon, Joe. Frank, honey – why up so early? You're not flying today are you?"

"No, Mom." Frank bent and kissed his mother's cheek. "I just woke up, that's all. Things to do."

"Dad's already headed out," Mrs. Hardy continued, as she put sliced bagels into the toaster oven and shut the little door. She sighed. "I hope he finds out where – Linda – came here from."

After Joe had headed for the airfield, grumbling the whole time over the unfairness of life and jobs, Frank helped Laura clear the table, then hugged her tightly, hoping to offer a little comfort.

"Mom, I'm going to go down to police headquarters and see if they've had any luck locating Aunt Linda's family, or any other leads."

"Frank, there hasn't been enough time for them to find—"

"I know." Frank repeated his earlier words to Joe. "But I can't just sit here and do nothing."

Laura hugged him. "Good luck." she murmured softly.

When Frank arrived at Bayport's main police station, he found it a beehive of activity; not unusual for the day after a holiday, when everyone who had been off had two days' work to catch up on – and those who could do so had taken a vacation day today, thereby leaving more work for their unfortunate co-workers. He nodded a polite "good morning" to the desk sergeant, who was trying to answer questions put to him by a small, blonde-haired young girl; and headed for Con Riley's desk.

Con looked up wearily as Frank approached. "Morning, Frank."

"Con." The dark-haired young man gave him a nod. "You look tired."

"It was a long night," Riley admitted. He favored Frank with a penetrating stare. "You doing okay?"

"Yeah." Frank nodded again. "My mom's pretty upset." He straightened his shoulders. "What have you found out, Con? Have you had any luck finding her – Linda's – husband?"

Riley looked grim. "In a manner of speaking. We contacted the NYPD, and they're going to send an officer to check out the address on her driver's license. But since yesterday was the Fourth, they're running behind just like we are. Hope to hear back later today."

"Autopsy results?" Frank asked, without much hope.

"Maybe by this afternoon, Frank." Con looked apologetic. "I'm really sorry, but I can't snap my fingers and get you instant answers."

"I know, I know." Frank raised his hands in a pacifying gesture. "I'll check back with you later, okay?" As he turned to go, he glanced back over his shoulder, feeling guilty. "Con? – try and catch a nap."

As the elder Hardy boy walked back to the main entrance, he noticed the same little blonde girl was still at the front desk. She looked to be fifteen or so, he thought absently, and wondered what all the fuss was about. Over the hubbub of general conversation and ringing telephones, he heard her voice rising.

"Geesh, they call you Bayport's finest? You couldn't find your way out of a paper bag unless there was a doughnut right outside!"

"Miss—" The desk sergeant made an effort to stem the tide of vituperation directed toward him, but to no avail.

"I need help! I don't need to be told that I have to wait 48 hours, or that I have to have something more substantial than a copy of a bus schedule!"

"Miss, legally we can't do anything until a person's been missing 48 hours—"

"You're the police – at least that's what the sign outside said!" the little blonde sputtered. "It's your job to help people! So help me! Don't tell me why you can't!"

Frank drew nearer, intrigued despite his own worries. He glanced at the desk sergeant and felt a twinge of anxiety for the blonde girl. Sergeant Turner wasn't someone to try to browbeat, and he was looking extremely irritated. His face was getting redder and redder as he listened to the torrent of verbal abuse she was heaping on his head; his heavy eyebrows drew into a scowl.

"I told you, kid – it hasn't been long enough for a Missing Persons report to be filed; we're overworked because yesterday was a holiday, and there's nothing that says your mother came to Bayport anyway." He clipped off his words with a devastating finality. "There's nothing we can do—"

"My mother has been sick – she shouldn't have been traveling anywhere alone!" the girl cried now. "Can't you people do a simple thing like finding someone—"

Frank was moving toward her without conscious volition, speaking the first words that came into his head. "Hey, there you are! I've been looking all over for you!" He grasped the girl's arm, turned her around, and gently propelled her towards the entrance doors.

The blonde was too surprised to do more than gasp and stammer. "Wh-what – who – what are you…?"

Before she could frame a complete sentence, Frank had her outside the building. He walked her over to a bench placed conveniently near, and gestured toward it.

"Please, sit down." He grinned disarmingly. "I'm sorry, but you were getting close to having your head bitten off, in there. Sergeant Turner can get ugly when he's pushed to his limits, and you were nearing those limits."

She stared at him with wide blue eyes, her mouth working silently as she tried to frame words. "I – who are you? Why would you care?" She slowly sank to a sitting position, absently adjusting the backpack slung across her shoulder.

"My name is Frank Hardy. I didn't mean to interfere, but I didn't want you to get yourself thrown out of the police station, and that would have been the least of what might have happened."

She looked a bit startled at that. "What – what might have happened?"

"It depends on how descriptive your terms got, but abusing a cop – even verbally abusing one – could get you a citation! And that desk sergeant was just the man who would slap one on you."

"But I need help…." she wailed.

"I couldn't help overhearing that you had a problem. Someone is missing, I think you said?"

"My mother – she disappeared yesterday. She's been sick; she was at home and I went out with some friends because it was the Fourth of July. When I got home last night, she was gone!" The blue eyes were limpid pools now. "I found a bus schedule with times marked to Bayport – we live in New York City – and the only thing I could think of was to follow her here – if she is here!" Her voice shook. "Where could she have gone? Why would she go somewhere, without telling me?" Suddenly, the pools overflowed, and tears slipped down her cheeks. "I've got to find her!"

"Don't cry, please don't." Frank felt in his pocket for a handkerchief, but found nothing, and cursed himself silently for his haste in dressing that morning. "I'm sure you'll find her…."

"I'm sorry—" she gulped. "But I've been up all night – there wasn't another bus to Bayport until 4 a.m., and I didn't want to miss it….And then when I got here, I couldn't find a taxi to get to police headquarters, and—and when I did get here, that awful man at the front desk wouldn't help me—" her voice broke and she cried harder, small shoulders shaking with her sobs.

Frank put a hand on her back, attempting to comfort her, but she shrugged him off, then scrubbed at her face with her fingers, trying to swipe away the tears that still coursed down her cheeks. "I'm – sorry – I'm just so – tired – and worried…." she gulped between sniffles.

"It's all right," he answered soothingly. "You need to get some rest. Do you have a place to stay?"

"Wh-where?" she demanded in a scathing tone. "No motel is going to rent a room to a kid without a parent around!"

Frank thought quickly. _It wouldn't be the first time we took in a stray – Mom wouldn't mind, and it might be a good distraction for her right now. And maybe we can help her find her mother._ Having reached this quick decision, he had to figure out just how to approach the offer.

"This is going to sound strange, I know…but you could come to my house," Frank said tentatively.

"Oh, right! What sort of idiot do you think I am?" The blue limpid pools had suddenly sparked fire as she glared at him.

"Look, my mom's there; I'm not trying to pull anything," he defended himself. "My dad's a private investigator, and my brother and I do work of the same sort. I just thought you could rest a while, and maybe we could look into finding your mother."

"Why should I trust you?"

"We can go back in there and I'll get people to vouch for me," Frank offered, indicating the police station behind them. "Really, I'm on the level here, Miss – umm, you do have a name, don't you?"

"It's Bella," she said tentatively. "Bella – Johnson."

 _Right, and I'm Michael Jordan! Oh well, I can't blame her for being suspicious._

"Come on then, Bella." Frank stood up and held out his hand invitingly. "Let me show you some Bayport hospitality; I don't think you've had a very good first exposure to it, so far."

The girl rose to her feet, and although she didn't take his hand, she followed him meekly to the parking space where Frank had left his Saturn. Her eyes widened in appreciation as she took in its sleek, black lines. "Pretty car," she murmured.

"Thanks." Frank hit the unlock button on his keys, then opened the door for Bella to get in. "Leave the door open for a second, to let some of the heat out."

As Frank drove toward his home, he noted with some amusement that Bella was taking no chances. Her left hand was laid casually across her lap, but her fingers were on the release button for her seat belt, and her right hand was on the door handle. It would have been far more comfortable for her to have removed her backpack, but she kept it in place, ready to exit the vehicle at any given moment. He wished that he could read her thoughts.

 _NO one as good-looking as this guy is could be doing something like this just because he's nice!_ Bella cast a covert glance at her escort out of the corners of her eyes, then swiftly returned her gaze frontward. _He must have an ulterior motive – well, I'll show_ _him_ _, if he tries anything!_

Frank parked his car in the driveway and walked around to the passenger side to open the door for Bella to exit. He bit back a smile at her almost frantic haste to get out of the car, followed by an equal reluctance to accompany him into the large stone house; apparently she wasn't sure which was worse, being in a car with him or going into who-knew-where, for who-knew-what.

"Bella, it's okay," he said gently. "Nobody's going to hurt you."

"I know that," she said, defiantly enough…but her eyes betrayed her doubt.

Frank ushered her into the front hall and closed the door behind them. "Mom?" he called. "Mom, I've brought a visitor."

"I'll be right there, Frank." Hismother's voice came clearly down the stairwell.

"Come on in here." Frank urged Bella into the family room. He grinned at her, hoping to allay her fears. "And stop looking so scared."

"I'm not scared!" she snapped, and marched across the room to stand at the window and gaze out at the back yard. "Stop treating me like an infant!"

"Oh, here you are – who is the visitor?" At the sound of Laura's soft voice, Bella spun around, her eyes widening to the size of saucers as she took in the sight of the petite blonde woman standing in the doorway. She took a single step forward.

"Mom? What are you – how did you – wait! You're not my mother! Who are you?"


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Many thanks to Cherylann and Max2013 for the kind reviews!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 8

For an endless-seeming moment, the three occupants of the Hardys' family room stood and stared at each other in shock; Bella fixing Laura with a hostile, frightened gaze, Laura with all color drained from her face once more; Frank's dark eyes tensely flicking back and forth from one to the other.

Finally the silence was broken by Laura. "Tinkerbelle?" she whispered.

Bella shrank back. "What did you call…? How could you know? WHO ARE YOU?"

"Oh my God…" Laura briefly closed her eyes, then opened them again. "I'm – I'm – If your mother is Linda Scarpetti…I'm your aunt Laura. Linda's sister…twin sister."

"My – aunt?" Bella faltered, and pressed the back of one hand against her lips for a moment. "I didn't know – I never knew I had – I didn't know Mom had a sister." She took one tentative step towards Laura, then another. "You look just like her."

"Twins generally do," Laura observed with a smile. "At least identical twins do."

"How did you know my nickname?" Bella asked. Then, wildly hopeful: "Is my mother here? Is this why she came to Bayport, to see you?"

 _Oh my Lord!_ Frank, standing mesmerized by this strange turn of events, felt shock reverberate through him as he realized the news they would have to break to the young girl. _This is awful – how can Mom answer that?_

"I saw your picture in your mother's wallet," Laura was answering Bella's queries carefully. "And she mentioned a 'Tinkerbelle' in a message she left on our answering machine. I just put two and two together, that's all. Your real name is—"

"Isabelle," the girl replied. "But I don't ever go by that – can you imagine? People might call me Izzy, or something awful like that! I go by 'Bella' – that means 'beautiful' in Italian, according to my dad." There was a sudden quivering of Bella's lips as she said the last words.

"It does, yes," Laura said steadily. Frank wondered how in the world she was keeping herself in control. "And it's certainly a suitable name for you." She smiled at her niece warmly, and Bella smiled back, but tears were gathering in Laura's eyes. _Isabelle? Oh Linda – you named her after Mother! You may have been angry, but you didn't forget…and you may have forgiven!_

"But Mom always calls me Tinkerbelle," Bella was continuing. "She seems to think I look like that Disney fairy, from Peter Pan." The girl rolled her eyes. "I suppose if I wore my hair in a bun on the top of my head and grew some wings…."

"Bella—" Frank moved toward her hesitantly. "If your mom and my mom were sisters, that would make us cousins – first cousins! And I found you at the police station….Talk about coincidence!"

She spared him a glance, and suddenly the blue eyes were twinkling; Frank realized with a start that Bella was a very pretty girl indeed. _Wow, what's Joe going to say when he realizes she's a relation?_

"I guess we are, at that," she admitted. "It's odd to think of having a cousin – I haven't any others – and a boy cousin is even stranger. And you said you have a brother, too? Another cousin?" _I guess he isn't a lech like I thought he was, after all, if he's my cousin…well, I suppose he could be a lech, but not for_ _me_ _._

"That's right." _Got to get her away from the subject of her mother, somehow…!_ "Joe's younger than I am – he just turned 18. I'll be 20 in November. You're…?"

"Seventeen." Her forehead knotted as she took in his reaction to this statement. "I am seventeen, I just look younger! It's because I'm short!" She slid her backpack from her shoulder and stood arrow-straight, attempting to appear taller.

"Maybe so." He gazed at her, taking in the piquant face with its pointed chin, wide-spaced eyes, and a mouth that looked to be made for smiling, although she hadn't done much of that lately. He could see the resemblance between Bella and his mother – and between Bella and Linda. "Maybe so."

Bella turned back to Laura. "Please, do you know where my mother is? Is she here? I've been trying to find her ever since late last night. I found a bus schedule with Bayport marked on it, and I took a chance and came here. She was coming to see you, right?"

"She's – not here, Bella." The words were barely audible.

"But she was here!" the girl insisted. "You said she left a phone message, and that you'd seen my picture. So she had to have been here!"

"She was here," Laura admitted. She cast an anguished glance at Frank, then forced herself to continue. "Bella, dear – I'm afraid I have some very bad news."

"What is it? Has something happened to my mom?" Bella clasped her hands together tightly, staring at Laura in confusion and fright.

"Bella – oh my dear! – when Frank and his brother came home yesterday afternoon, they found—" Laura paused and swallowed. "they found your mother here. She apparently came here while we were gone—"

"Was she all right? She was sick…."

"No, darling, she wasn't all right. Bella, she was – dead."

The fateful words hung in the air. Bella stood blinking at her aunt, looking bewildered.

"Dead?" she repeated uncomprehendingly.

"Bella, I'm so very sorry—" Laura began. She walked over to the girl and tried to hug her, but Bella shrugged herself out of the embrace.

"Dead? My mother – died?" The blue eyes were pools of water again, but none had spilled over yet. She stared beseechingly at Laura, then turned her gaze to Frank. "You're sure she's not here…you're sure she's dead?"

Frank's heart ached with pity. "Bella, we're really sorry. It was a shock to us too" _We didn't know she existed before yesterday, and we didn't know_ _you_ _existed until just now!_

She turned away abruptly and walked back to the window, staring out at the sunlit yard. Frank, watching intently, could see the tense way she was holding her shoulders, and realized she was exerting every ounce of self-control she possessed. _She's trying not to cry. Poor little kid!_

Laura was the one in tears now. Tears of grief over her suddenly-found and suddenly-lost sister, and tears of sympathy and compassion for the bereft young girl. Frank went to his mother's side and wrapped a comforting arm about her.

"Mom, it'll be okay…."

Bella turned back to face them, her eyes still swimming with unshed tears and her jaw set grimly. "I – I think I need to get out of here. Just for a little bit—" She took several quick steps in the direction of the door. "I – I can't—"

Her choked words were interrupted by the slamming of a door and the sounds of quick footsteps.

"Frank? You home? Jack needs you at the airfield—"

Bella jumped as if she had received an electric shock, then resumed her almost-frantic flight. Before either Frank or Laura could move to forestall her exit, she was nearly through the door to the hall – and then she met an irresistible force in the figure of Joe Hardy, who appeared in the doorway just in time to receive the impact of her small body.

"Unnh! What the—" he began, instinctively catching her shoulders and pushing her away.

"Get out of my way!" she stormed at him. "Leave me alone!"

"Wha—but I—"

But before the stupefied Joe could finish a sentence, Bella was spiraling to the next level of grief. Gone was the denial that had allowed her to keep her composure in this room full of "familiar" strangers. In its place came an all-encompassing white-hot anger; anger against the whole world. She threw her small fists against Joe's chest. "DAMN you! How could you do this to me?

Joe stared down at her in bewilderment, then looked at his mother and brother. The anguish in all three faces told him this was serious, even though he didn't know the full story. Well, whoever this strange girl was, that was beating on him, she wasn't likely to hurt him, and it was better to let her vent in a safe environment. Her words were obviously not targeted at _him_. He didn't stop her as she continued to pound against his chest, although he winced slightly a couple of times. _As little as she is, she's probably hurting herself way more than she'll hurt me!_

The tirade continued as she unleashed her fury on the unseen target of her wrath.

"WHY? Why did you leave? If you had stayed we could have gotten you some help, but no, you were too proud! Too independent! And too selfish! You promised me – we promised each other – we could get through anything as long as we were together….But you left! You left me! I didn't even get to say goodbye – AGAIN!" She shrieked the words, frantically striking Joe harder; he grunted at the impact, but stoically held himself firm, his arms loosely encircling her. "If only Daddy….Why couldn't you just trust him? He wasn't out to hurt you….he could have helped….I hate you! I HATE you!"

With the last three words, it was as if a dam had burst, and she began crying hysterically, still flailing against Joe's chest. "Hate you…hate you…" The words were muffled against his shirt front as he held her tighter. But as quickly as the tears had begun, they ended. Suddenly, it seemed as if someone had pulled a plug and disconnected the emotional outburst. The power that had fueled her anger was gone as quickly as a turned-off light bulb, and she sagged against him, her body shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Joe looked down at her in concern.

Spent from her emotionally charged outburst, the girl's strength and energy had depleted rapidly, and she went limp in his supporting embrace, her head pillowed against his arm. Joe felt a lump rise in his throat as he gazed at her. Apparently, she had fallen asleep in his arms, just that quickly. Only the slightest quiver of her lower lip gave evidence that the avalanche of emotions was only temporarily held at bay, waiting impatiently for another chance to emerge.

Carefully, the younger Hardy lifted her into his arms and cradled her against him; amazed at how light she was. He looked over at Frank and Laura, and was frightened to see his mother sobbing as bitterly against her elder son's chest as she had cried the day before. Joe's troubled gaze met Frank's.

"What's going on?"

"I'll explain in a minute," Frank murmured, rocking Laura gently and patting her back. "Why don't you carry her upstairs and put her on the bed in the guest room?"

"Okay." Joe pivoted slowly, and walked from the room, carrying his burden carefully so as not to awaken her, although he doubted that anything short of being dropped down the stairs would accomplish _that_. When he returned, he found Laura had regained her composure, and was sitting in her favorite spot on the sofa, looking very sad.

"Joe, would you take her backpack up and put it in her room?" Laura gestured toward the abandoned pack lying on the floor. Joe nodded and did so; by the time he once more regained the family room, he wasn't about to accept any more excuses.

"Somebody tell me what's happened and who that little Roman candle is!" he demanded. He paused, remembering the reason for his errand home. "Frank, Jack needs you to fly a run this afternoon – that's why I came home."

Frank frowned. "Jack needs me? I thought April was doing the afternoon runs today."

"She was supposed to," Joe replied. "but yesterday they had a picnic. Jack apparently has a 'famous' potato salad recipe…probably the only thing he knows how to make!…and he made it for them. Well…you know how hot it was yesterday. April thought Jack had put the potato salad in the refrigerator – and Jack thought April had put it in. Neither one of them did – and April is now so sick to her stomach she thinks she's on her deathbed." A slight smile tugged at the corners of Joe's mouth. _Turnabout is fair play, April – although I'm sorry you're sick, it only seems like justice…._

"Poor April!" Laura exclaimed.

"Obviously, she can't fly her delivery run, and Jack's hoping you can do it," Joe finished with a questioning lift of his eyebrows in Frank's direction.

"Sure, I can do it." Frank checked his pocket for his car keys. "I'll head on over right now."

"Hold it, you aren't going anywhere until you explain things!" Joe held up a detaining hand. "Jack doesn't need you until one o'clock; the plane's already loaded, thanks to Jason and me, and it's a short flight. So let me in on the secret, please."

"She's my sister's daughter, Joe," Laura said quietly. "Her name is Bella, and she's your cousin."

Joe's mouth dropped open in shock. "My cousin? That little spitfire is related to us?"

Frank chuckled at his brother's reaction. "I think she fits in real well, Joe – in fact, I think there's a definite resemblance between you and her. Blonde hair – blue eyes – same kind of temper—"

"Now wait a minute!" Joe protested. "I don't throw temper tantrums like that—"

"You weren't just told that your mother died yesterday," Laura said softly, and her words made Joe's remarks stick in his throat.

"Oh, Lord….No wonder she was hysterical," he murmured. "Poor little kid."

"Not so little." Frank was intent on catching Joe up on each detail he could think of. "She says she's seventeen." He grinned wickedly at Joe's widened eyes. "Too bad she's related, huh?"

#####

Frank departed for Wayne's World shortly thereafter, promising to relay Laura's sympathies to the ailing April. Joe, declaring he was done for the day and glad of it, established himself at the kitchen table and prepared to eat his way through everything he had located in the refrigerator that could be termed "lunch."

Laura stood and watched her younger son for a moment or two, then turned away and surveyed the kitchen floor somberly.

"Mom?" Joe managed to make his tone inquiring through a bite of peanut-butter sandwich. "Is something wrong?"

"I need to scrub this floor," Laura said and shivered a little. "I keep seeing…Linda, lying there…."

Joe winced; _that_ was an image he wouldn't want engraved in his mind. And as Laura spoke, he himself could see the quiet figure lying there on the vinyl flooring….

"Maybe if I know the floor's just been mopped," his mother continued, "I can get it out of my head."

Joe nodded sympathetically. "Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked.

"Well—" Laura pondered a few seconds. "I think tonight would be a good night for grilled hamburgers and salads for dinner. I think what I'd like you to do is to make sure the grill is clean, out on the patio; and to make a run to the grocery store for me, and pick up some ground beef and hamburger buns."

"I can do that," Joe assented. "And my car needs to be washed." He grinned, and a familiar wheedling tone entered his voice. "Mom…can I ask Vanessa over…?"

#####

At four o'clock that afternoon, Laura slipped up the stairs to the guest room and entered silently. Bella was lying on the bed, curled into a loose ball; her breathing was soft and steady, her eyes closed. There were dried tear streaks still showing on her cheeks, but her face was relaxed and composed in sleep. Laura touched her niece's hair very gently, her heart aching with her own grief and the sorrow she felt for "Tinkerbelle" who had lost her mother.

Laura turned away from the bedside, and was about to depart as quietly as she had come, when Bella stirred suddenly, turned over and opened her eyes, fixing them on Laura. She blinked once, then once more.

"It wasn't a dream, was it?" the girl said huskily. "She's really gone."

Swiftly, Mrs. Hardy returned to Bella's side, and sat down on the edge of the bed. She held out her arms in invitation, and this time Bella snuggled into the embrace, clinging to Laura as if she never wanted to let go. After a long moment, however, Bella loosened her grip and leaned back.

"Tell me how it happened," she requested.

Laura bit her lip, striving for composure. "As I said before, darling, Frank and Joe came home yesterday from a parade. They found your mother lying on the floor in the kitchen. They realized she was dead, and they called the police, but because of it being July 4th, there was quite a bit of time that elapsed before the authorities could get here. Fenton and I—"

"Fenton?"

"Your uncle," Mrs. Hardy explained with a smile. "My husband's name is Fenton."

"Oh—okay, go on."

"We didn't arrive home until some time after the boys did," Laura concluded.

"Do you – know why – how – she died?" Bella was trying very hard to remain calm and collected; it was as if she was discussing someone from past history; someone she was only mildly interested in.

"No. She wasn't harmed, in the sense of being shot, or knifed or strangled, if that's what you mean…." Laura paused, realizing that perhaps her glib recital of these methods of death wasn't sitting too well with her niece; there was perhaps a little too much familiarity with them for comfort. _See what comes of living with policemen and detectives all these years?_ "It looked as if she simply came into the house and…quietly died here," she finished gently.

"She had been sick," Bella said flatly. "She kept telling me it was nothing, that she'd be better soon…but she didn't get better; she was getting worse."

"Sick? You mean – something like – cancer?"

"No – well, I don't know. She just didn't feel well, a lot of the time. Stomach pain. She complained about being dizzy, and she was nauseated a lot. And she seemed sort of paranoid, sometimes. But she didn't want to see a doctor about it."

"Perhaps it was a heart attack," Laura suggested. "Although she was very young for something like that."

"Mrs. Har—I mean, Aunt Laura?" Bella faltered. "She couldn't have – have – killed herself, could she?"

"Killed herself?" Laura's tone sharpened. "Why would she do something like that?"

"Well – she was depressed. I knew she hadn't been herself since Daddy died, but I never thought she'd hurt herself—"

Laura inhaled sharply. "Marco's dead?" Pain swept through her again, as she remembered the handsome, dark-eyed Italian man that Linda had loved so passionately. _Marco – the modern version of Frankie Avalon, that's what Linda used to call him when she first knew him!_ "Oh  Bella, I had no idea your father was dead! When did it happen?" She caught Bella into her arms again.

"About two months ago," the little blonde girl replied, her lips quivering. "There was a robbery at the restaurant, after it had closed one night." She laid her head against Laura's shoulder.

"The restaurant?" Mrs. Hardy inquired gently.

"Yeah – Marco's Italian Restaurant – the restaurant my parents owned." Bella swallowed hard. "My dad was shot….they never found out who did it."

"And you think your mother might have been so depressed that she –" Laura closed her eyes. Fenton had assured her that there didn't seem to be any evidence of foul play. She'd consoled herself with the thought that Linda must have been ill, but had her sister been so distraught that she had actually taken her own life? _But what about the messages she left on the answering machine?_ "Bella, right now we don't know what caused her death. But Fenton and the boys are looking into it – we'll know soon."

"You sound very sure." Blue eyes met equally blue ones.

"I am sure," Mrs. Hardy replied. "I have a lot of faith in them." She hugged Bella once more and stood up. "Would you like to rest longer?"

"No, I think I'd like to clean up a little." Bella glanced around the room and spotted her backpack beside the bed. "I have some other clothes in there…."

"The bathroom is just next door," Laura told her. "Come on downstairs when you're ready." She exited, quietly shutting the door behind her.

Left alone, Bella sat on the bed for a few moments, attempting to arrange her tumultuous thoughts. In the past few hours, she'd lost her only surviving parent, and discovered a whole family of relatives she'd never known existed. She thought about Laura, who looked so like her mother…about Frank, who, although she had mistrusted him at first, seemed to be nice after all…and about the other guy – the blonde one she'd tried to pummel into taffy. What had Frank said his name was? John? Jeff? Hmmm….whoever he was, she had certainly made a bad first impression! She stood up and grabbed her backpack; headed for the shower.

Laura reached the bottom of the staircase just as the front door opened and her husband entered the house. She walked to him and let him enfold her in his comforting embrace.

"Oh Fenton, I'm so glad you're home." She rested her head against his shoulder wearily.

"I'm glad I'm here too." He kissed her gently. "You all right?"

"Yes." She straightened up and leaned away from him. "What did you find out?"

"I checked the cab companies here in town," the investigator began. "and eventually found the one that Linda took here yesterday morning. I located the driver and talked to him. He remembered bringing her here…and stated without a doubt that she seemed to be very ill and upset. He was worried about leaving her here, when it became obvious that there was no one home, but she was adamant. So he obeyed her wishes." He sighed. "I wish he had obeyed his better judgment instead, and called 911. I also found out that Marco and Linda owned a restaurant in New York City, up until…" Fenton hesitated, but Laura took the thread of conversation.

"Until Marco was killed two months ago," she said softly.

"How in the world…?" He gaped at her, dumbfounded. "How could you know that? I just found it out!"

"Remember the photo in the wallet?" she reminded him. "Linda's and Marco's daughter Isabelle – Bella – is currently in our guest room."

"What?"

Laura couldn't help chuckling at her husband's astonishment. "Believe it or not, Frank found her at the police station – looking for her mother. He brought her here not realizing who she was. Being his usual helpful self. He had no idea he was bringing home a long-lost relative."

"Thank goodness!" Mr. Hardy exhaled a sigh of relief. "I talked to the manager of Marco's restaurant – a man by the name of Alexander Harrington – and he was going out of his mind with worry because Linda's daughter had disappeared last night."

"She was apparently on her way here last night," Laura explained. "Not 'here' as in to our house, but 'here' as in Bayport.

"It sounds as if you've had a busy day!" Fenton noted. "What else do you already know, then?"

Before Laura could reply, the telephone rang, and Fenton turned to answer it. "Hardy residence – ah, afternoon, Con." He listened intently for a few moments, occasionally murmuring "uh huh," and "yes, I see." Finally he hung up and turned to face his anxiously-waiting wife.

"Con got the autopsy results back." He reached to grasp Laura's shoulders. "Linda died of kidney failure…caused by poison."


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks. All I did was sort of string things together.

Thank you to all who have left commentary and feedback: Cherylann, Max2013, LaurieQ and BMSH.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 9

"Poison!" Laura gasped. She clutched at her husband's shirt front. "Fenton – could it have been self-administered? Suicide?"

"Perhaps," he admitted with some reluctance, "But why would she do something like that?"

"Bella is afraid she might have been so depressed over Marco's death that she took her own life," she said softly. "I could understand that. Linda loved Marco almost…frantically, I guess you could say. You remember, surely?"

Mr. Hardy nodded. "I remember. And it's not out of the realm of possibilities. Con said he'd fax a complete report of the medical examiner's findings to me; it's probably in the den now." He took a few steps in the direction of the den, but halted as his younger son appeared from the kitchen.

"Hey, Dad." Joe grinned at his father cheerfully. "Did you hear about our houseguest?"

"I certainly did," Fenton commented. "I'm anxious to meet her."

"So am I," Joe said, which caused Fenton to frown in bewilderment. "We haven't exactly met…yet."

At that moment, a door upstairs opened and shut, and a small figure began to make its way down the stairs. Seeing the three people grouped in the hallway, Bella paused halfway down, blushing with shyness.

"Bella dear, come and meet someone – two someones," Laura invited, extending her hand. "This is my husband, Fenton Hardy – your uncle. And this is your cousin Joe, Frank's younger brother. Fenton, Joe, meet Bella Scarpetti."

Bella came down the rest of the stairs and held out her hand to Mr. Hardy. "How do you do?" she murmured. Then she turned to Joe. "Hi, Joe. I'm sorry about what happened earlier," she said, flushing even more rosily. "I don't usually lash out at complete strangers like that." She averted her gaze in embarrassment. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

Joe's lips twitched slightly. _How to say 'no you didn't' without making her feel silly, that's the problem here._ "Nothing that won't heal," he said aloud, and let his smile show. Apparently he had said the right thing, for the uncomfortable flush faded from her cheeks, and she smiled in return. Joe was struck anew by her attractiveness. She reminded him of someone…not just Linda or his mother, but someone else. _Who does she make me think of…?_ "Hey, you're 'Tinkerbelle,' aren't you?"

She recoiled as if he'd struck her, and went white. Joe, appalled at her reaction, began to stammer an apology, but after a moment she held up both hands to silence him.

"Yes – I guess I am. That's what my mother called me, anyway. It was her pet name for me; no one else ever called me Tinkerbelle."

"I'm sorry – I'm really sorry; I didn't mean—"

"It's all right. It's nice to hear someone say it." Bella managed a smile. "You can call me that if you want to." _It's better to have you call me that than never to hear it again…never again…._ She bit her tongue hard, using the pain as a distraction to stop the tears from flowing.

Salvation arrived in the form of Frank Hardy, yanking open the front door and admitting a wave of warm air. Seeing his family grouped in the front hallway, he stopped on the threshold in confusion.

"What's up?"

"Introductions," Joe informed him laconically. "Now everyone knows who everyone is."

"Hi Dad," Frank greeted his father warmly. "Hi Bella; did you have a good rest?"

"Yes, I did; thank you," she replied somewhat stiffly. Everyone fell silent for a moment, unsure of what to say next.

"I need to check that fax of the medical examiner's report," Fenton broke the silence, and was just exiting when Bella spoke again.

"Is that – the report on what my mother – died from?" she asked hesitantly. Mr. Hardy stopped and turned back to face her.

"That's right, Bella," he said gently. "Do you want to know what it says?"

"More than that. I want to see her. I've got to see her!" she added, seeing their reactions. "I didn't see Daddy after he…died." Frank and Joe, not having heard about Marco's death, exchanged quick, horrified glances. "Mom thought it would upset me too much to see him. But because I didn't – I guess my imagination went into overdrive. I had nightmares for weeks afterwards." Bella gazed into each sympathetic face in turn. "I want to – say goodbye," she finished.

"All right Bella, I'll take you," Fenton said gently. He retraced his steps into the hallway. "Let's go right now."

"I'll come too." Frank opened the front door and gestured for Bella and his father to proceed. _I brought you home from the police station, after all. I didn't realize what it was going to turn into, but I feel like I'm responsible._

#####

Frank, Bella and Mr. Hardy stood silently in the viewing room. The basement morgue of the Bayport police station was a grim, forbidding place. Of the three, Fenton was the only one with even the most remote acquaintanceship with the place. Frank had been there once – Bella, never.

A shrouded body on a stainless steel table….The assistant coroner slowly pulled back the sheet, revealing Linda Scarpetti's head and shoulders. Frank steeled himself for the shock of seeing the image of his mother lying on that table. But he knew it had to be worse for the girl standing beside him. Instinctively, he put his arm around her slender waist, hoping to offer some slight comfort.

Bella shuddered convulsively, her face pale. She stared at the form on the table for a long time, then she twisted slightly and buried her face in Frank's broad chest. "That's not my mother…."

Frank frowned, and glancing sideways, saw the same confusion on his father's face as he felt on his own. What was Bella saying? Of course it was her mother; his parents had already made a positive ID…. "Bella…?"

"I mean – yes, I realize, it's her b-body…. That's just an empty shell where my mom used to be." Her voice was muffled against his shirtfront. "I've never seen her so still – so pale. She was always full of life – so energetic. Even at her lowest, right after Daddy died. She was a whirlwind of activity. Always on the move, making sure everyone else was all right, planning things…." She shuddered again, and Frank tightened his comforting grip.

Fenton motioned for the sheet to be replaced. "Frank, take Bella upstairs to the lobby, please. I'll be right there."

Frank nodded, and guided her toward the door. He didn't think his new-found cousin could take much more, and he hated to see her in so much pain. "Come on, I'll get you something to drink." Numbly silent, Bella allowed herself to be shepherded towards the elevators.

Upstairs, Frank found Bella a place to sit in the summer-heated lobby, then went to the soft-drink machine and purchased a can of 7-Up. Returning to her side, he popped the top and held it out to her. "Here."

She shook her head. "If I drink that right now, it will just come right back up," she gulped.

Frank nodded. "There seems to be a lot of that going around," he commented, trying to lighten the mood – and then realized that Bella wouldn't have the slightest idea what he was referring to. _She_ didn't know April Wayne. He offered the 7-Up again. "Just a sip," he encouraged gently. Reluctant but obedient, she took the can and sipped a tiny amount. When that sip seemed to be willing to stay down, she tried another.

For most of the ride back to the Hardys' home Bella huddled in on herself in the back seat of Frank's Saturn, clutching her can of 7-Up, withdrawn and silent. Only as they neared the Hardys' home again did she seem to come out of her shell the least bit.

There were two more cars parked near the big stone house, when Frank pulled into the driveway. One of them was a red Jeep Wrangler; the other – the sight of a blue Accord made Frank grin and his dark eyes light with pleasure. "Hey, look who's here!" he exclaimed, shutting off the engine and opening the driver's door.

Bella blinked in confusion. _Now_ _who do I have to meet?_ Mr. Hardy courteously opened her door and took her hand to help her from the car, then gently propelled her toward the house. She trailed in Frank's wake, still confused, but acquiescent.

Inside, she followed her cousin to the family room, where Joe and two girls were lounging. Frank bounded over to a recliner chair and reached to pull the occupant to her feet. "Megan! What are you doing here?"

Watching, Bella found herself smiling in empathy and pleasure. The girl Frank was hugging so enthusiastically was tiny – shorter even than Bella herself – with tumbled coppery curls; and she was returning the hug with apparent enthusiasm, despite nearly being engulfed in the tall Hardy boy's embrace. But almost immediately, she freed herself and smiled in Bella's direction.

"Hi. I'm Megan Wright. I'm a – friend – of Frank's." She cast a teasing glance in Frank's direction. "Joe told us about his new cousin….It's nice to meet you, Bella. I'm really sorry about your mother." Nothing in Megan's gentle aqua-blue eyes betrayed the fact that _she_ had been the one to make the grisly discovery the previous day, but Frank squeezed the hand he still held, comfortingly.

"H-how do you do?" Bella whispered. She was instinctively drawn to this charming girl with the soft voice and beautiful eyes. _And she's obviously where Frank's interest lies. I guess he's not on the make after all…._

"And this is my girlfriend, Vanessa Bender," Joe said. He rose from his seat on the couch and tugged on Vanessa's hand. Bella blinked as the model-tall Vanessa uncoiled long legs and got to her feet. "Vanessa, my cousin Bella Scarpetti."

"Hi Bella." Vanessa may have looked intimidating to the younger girl, but her smile was as friendly and unassuming as Megan's. She brushed back a strand of ash-blonde hair. "I'm sorry about your mom too."

"Thank you." Bella swallowed hard; sympathy was difficult to take at the moment, with the image of Linda lying on the table engraved in her mind.

"Tinkerbelle, are you okay?" Joe murmured softly, stepping closer to the little blonde. She nodded; didn't try to speak.

Luckily for everyone, Laura entered the room just at that moment. "Joe, I seem to remember a remark about volunteering to grill the hamburgers. The charcoal's ready."

"Work, work, work, that's all I ever do around here…" Joe pivoted and headed out of the room; his voice trailed off as he headed for the patio, dragging Vanessa after him.

#####

Bella accepted her plate with a wan smile. She didn't want to hurt Joe's feelings, but she wasn't really in the mood for food. The 7-Up Frank had made her drink earlier had stayed down, but she felt as if a fist were closed about her throat; forcing hamburgers and pasta salad past that invisible fist was going to be difficult. She lifted her hamburger and took a tiny bite, chewing it carefully. For all she tasted, it might as well have been sawdust. _I already hurt Joe by hitting him…I don't want to hurt his feelings by not eating his hamburgers. And if I don't eat, people will worry about me. I don't want to make them worry…. If I can just make it through dinner, I'll be fine…._

If the others noted Bella's lack of appetite, they didn't comment on it, and her silence was masked by the laughing chatter going on. She found herself smiling at some of the jokes: Joe's wisecracks and Vanessa's dry put-downs of them; Megan's contagious ripples of laughter; Fenton's deep chuckles. It was relaxed and friendly and non-threatening; it was what Bella needed just then: family. An adored only child of doting parents, she had known love all her life; love freely given and accepted. But this larger group, with its ebb and flow of intermixing personalities, was a fascinating thing for her to watch. And the fact that Laura looked and sounded like Linda was unnerving…but comforting, too.

When dinner was over and the dishes cleared away, they reassembled in the family room. The jokes ceased; it was time for serious business, and they all knew it. By tacit agreement, Megan and Vanessa were included in this case from the start; they had earned the right by virtue of their presence the day before. Fenton sat in his favorite chair, and Laura a second recliner. Bella curled into a corner of the sofa, and Frank and Megan joined her; Joe and Vanessa occupied the love seat, his arm draped loosely about her shoulders.

Mr. Hardy cleared his throat and displayed a sheaf of papers. "Bella, you know I'm a private investigator, right?"

She nodded soberly.

"Do I have your permission to conduct an investigation of your mother's death? And do you want me to?" He gestured at the others in the room. "Do you want us to?"

She nodded again. "Yes, sir. Yes, please, yes."

"All right." Fenton sighed. "I have here the detailed results of the medical examiner's autopsy." He glanced briefly at Bella. "The cause of death was kidney failure due to arsenic poisoning." He waited for the startled gasps to subside, then continued. "There was arsenic throughout her system and tissues, and symptoms of extended arsenic exposure."

"Are you saying someone poisoned my mother?" Bella demanded, her voice shaking. "Deliberately poisoned her?"

"Well, the coroner calls it 'death by unnatural causes'. But that's the gist of it, yes," Fenton said bluntly.

"Who would want to murder my mom?" she quavered. "My parents didn't have any enemies. Everyone loved them. My dad had lunch served for the homeless once a week, at the restaurant – and his staff is wonderful. My mom was the same way. Nobody would want to hurt them!"

Megan reached for the younger girl's hand and squeezed it gently. "Sweetie, that's what I thought too – but someone did murder my dad, just the same."

Bella cast her a startled glance. "Your father—was murdered?"

"Yes." Megan nodded, and patted the small hand she held.

"Daddy's death I could accept," Bella faltered. "The police said it was some punk looking for drug money, and Daddy got in the way….But what you are saying about Mom…." She turned towards Laura, her eyes beseeching. "You understand, don't you? She was your twin sister!"

"I understand completely," Laura assured her. "I can't imagine anyone wanting my sister dead, either. But the facts remain the same. Linda died of the results of arsenic poisoning – whether it was murder, or whether it was…self-inflicted."

Bella dropped her gaze to her lap. _There it is again. They think she might have killed herself. Suicide – or murder? Who would kill her? Why would she have committed suicide? Because of Daddy? She wouldn't have left…me – would she?_

Frank leaned forward, past Megan. "Bella? Who does – did – your mom see on a daily basis?"

Bella reflected a moment. "Besides me, the only people she's around constantly are the ones who work at the restaurant. But they're like family!"

Mr. and Mrs. Hardy exchanged glances. _With_ _that_ _family, that could be very dangerous!_ was the unspoken comment that ran between them. "Bella, speaking of family – what do you know of your father's family?" Fenton asked quietly. "Obviously you didn't know about  us."

"Not much," she admitted. "Daddy was as close-mouthed about his family as Mom was about hers. I didn't even know he had any living relatives until Uncle Dom showed up at his funeral."

Laura managed to conceal her sharply-indrawn breath. _Uncle Dom? Dominic? Dominic Scarpetti?_ When she looked at her husband, she knew he was thinking the same thing. But Fenton didn't show his shock; he continued with his quiet interrogation.

"How did your mother feel about that? About Dominic coming to the funeral?"

Bella apparently didn't realize there was anything unusual in her uncle's easy use of Dominic's full name; the fact that Fenton knew it didn't seem strange to her. "I don't know that mom even realized he was there. I don't think he talked to her at the funeral. He talked to me, though. He told me that there was a falling-out in the family when Daddy married Mom, and that's why Daddy had never mentioned him." She blinked thoughtfully. "He said he'd like to make amends and get to know me better – but he didn't want to cause trouble, so it would be better if he didn't come around to see me when Mom was there. She'd been through so much already, with Daddy's death."

Frank had been watching his parents closely; there was something going on between them; something more than what met the eye. _They know something they aren't telling the rest of us!_ He cast his mind back to the story Laura and Fenton had related the day before. _Dominic must be involved with the "family" businesses of the Scarpetti clan._ He looked over at his brother and caught Joe's eye. Joe nodded slightly. He understood.

"I realize this is probably obvious," Megan made her suggestion in a tentative voice, "but if Linda was at the restaurant often, the most logical place for her to ingest poison is there. Despite what you say about the staff loving her and everyone being like family, there's loads of opportunity."

"Megan's right," Fenton commented, with an approving look at his son's girlfriend. "The restaurant is the place to start looking for possible suspects."

"Mom was there nearly every day," Bella conceded. "And she almost always ate lunch there; sometimes dinner too."

"Who is there all the time – or most of the time?" Joe asked. "And who would have the best opportunity to slip something into her food?"

"Well…" Bella pondered a moment. "The chef – Enrico. He took over as head chef after Daddy died – the under-chefs; the wait staff. The maitre d. Alexander, the manager." Bella ticked them off on her fingers. "There are probably ten waiters and waitresses and busboys – and five chefs in the kitchen."

Joe groaned. "That's a lot of people! And it might be someone who isn't there all the time!"

"I think the restaurant is the logical place to start looking for a potential killer," Frank stated quietly. "And that means that we need to go there – work there. Be on-site."

"Can we get jobs at the restaurant, Bella?" Joe asked his cousin.

The little blonde considered the idea for a moment. "I suppose you could be a busboy," she said finally. "It gets pretty busy, especially in the evenings. Alexander would agree to it."

"Bella—" Laura reminded her gently. "You probably haven't thought about this, but as both your parents are dead, it's likely that you are the legal owner of Marco's now. If you want to hire some new busboys, you can hire some new busboys! Alexander or no Alexander."

Bella's blue eyes widened as she assessed this information. "I never thought about that!" she breathed. "Even if I'm not 18 yet?"

"Well, we can try it anyway," Fenton said.

"And I can check out the staff while I'm working," Joe announced smugly.

Vanessa jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "That doesn't mean deciding who's the prettiest waitress!" she warned him, and Joe threw her a hurt glance.

"What did your mother do there, are the restaurant?" Megan inquired. "She wasn't in the kitchen, obviously. Why was she there every day?"

"She did all the bookkeeping," Bella replied. "She was in the back office most of the time. Everything was on the computer. Mom used a computer spreadsheet to keep the books. She always said it would take a computer genius to figure out her codes, after she got started."

Frank sat up straight, his dark eyes flashing with excitement. "The books! Financial records! There's a possible reason for someone to want to hurt your mother, Bella! If she had found out something was going on with the restaurant's finances…."

"But there wasn't!" Bella wailed. "There wasn't anything going on, I'm sure of it!"

"Hey, I didn't mean – oh, nuts!" Frank cast a despairing glance around the room, seeking help. Fenton came to his rescue.

"It's a place to start, Bella," the investigator said firmly. "You can bring Frank in as someone checking through the books and records on the computer and otherwise, prior to a formal accounting, since your parents are both – gone."

She nodded, and gulped down a sob. "Yes, I can do that," she agreed.

Frank looked over at Vanessa and grinned conspiratorially. "If I need computer help, I know where to find it." Frank suddenly recalled that he and Joe were already employed "And if we're going to be in New York, I guess we'd better give Jack a call. I don't know what he'll do, with April out sick….oh heck, this is a problem!"

"I'll call Jack," Joe offered, getting to his feet and reaching for the cordless phone on the table. He walked out of the room, punching numbers as he went.

"I might have a suggestion." Vanessa had been quiet for a time, listening intently to the conversation as it eddied around her. "If you want someone else working with you on the inside, that is."

"What's that?" Frank asked her.

"I ran into Tony this morning, and he was mad as all get-out. There's a new owner at Mr. Pizza, and apparently he's decided to bring in his own staff. Tony's hours have been cut way, way back. He's looking for another job, but there isn't much open right now in Bayport, and he doesn't really want to work for his dad's construction crew. I'll bet he would do a nice job working at Marco's – better than Joe, actually, because Tony has restaurant experience, and Joe doesn't."

Frank glanced at Bella, who was looking a little bewildered at this new name. "Bella, Tony Prito is a friend of Joe's and mine. He's my age, and he's been a manager at a place called Mr. Pizza for several years. As Van says, he's more familiar with restaurant work than either Joe or I." He grinned. "And he's worked with us on cases before – he's a good guy to have on hand, and he's got a mean right cross."

She smiled gamely. "Then by all means, let's see if he'd like to work for Marco's."

"I'll give him a call right now." Frank stood up and left the room, intending to get his cell phone. As he did so, Joe came back in, the phone cradled against his shoulder, evidently still holding conversation with Jack.

"Jack said he thinks April will be okay by day after tomorrow," Joe announced, then swung about to follow Frank. "He'd like us to work tomorrow morning, though, if we can….Frank? That work for you?"

"Sure!" came the shouted reply from his brother, followed by words addressed to someone else: "Hey, Tony? It's Frank…."

Laura cleared her throat significantly. "So when do we leave for New York?"

Fenton stared at her in amazement. "We – as in you?"

"Why not?" she demanded. "I know New York like I was born there – because surprise, surprise, I was. And I'm not going to sit on the sidelines and watch while you three figure out what happened to my sister."

"Laura, it's much too dangerous. We don't know who or what we're up against," her husband warned her. _And we're dealing with the Scarpetti "family," I'm sure of that!_ "What if someone saw you and assumed you were Linda – and came back to finish the job?"

"Then that person is the one we're looking for," she answered smartly.

Before either Joe or Fenton could come up with a sufficiently quelling response, Vanessa offered her opinion.

"I think Mrs. Hardy's right. She sits back and watches you guys charge off into danger every time you are on a case. It seems to me she has a right to be in on this."

"But it's not—" Joe began, only to be overridden by Megan's soft tones.

"It wouldn't look as strange for her to be there as for you anyway. Linda was her sister."

Now Bella chimed in: "I guess since Mom came to you for help, she'd want you involved. And I can solve the living arrangements. You can stay at our – at my – house. It only makes sense, anyway…since you're my mom's sister."

Fenton threw up his hands, both literally and figuratively. "I give up!" he exclaimed. "We'll try to leave tomorrow afternoon, when Frank and Joe are done with their jobs at Wayne's World." Laura exchanged triumphant glances with the two older girls, pointedly ignoring her son's and husband's irritation.

"Aunt Laura…?" Bella looked over at Mrs. Hardy and spoke with some hesitation, after a moment. "You said that…you'd gotten a message on your answering machine…from my mom."

"That's right, we did. Three messages," Laura answered gently.

"Could I – could I listen to them? I want to hear her…just once more." Bella's eyes filled with tears and she blinked rapidly.

"Oh darling!" Laura bit her lip, undecided. "Are you sure?"

"No." Bella shook her head. "That is, I'm sure I want to – I'm not sure I can make myself do it, though. But I'd like to try."

"All right." Laura glanced about the room; taking the hint, her husband, Joe, Megan and Vanessa all got to their feet and departed, making various excuses.

"I'm going to help Frank talk to Tony…" that was Megan, giving Bella a quick hug as she spoke.

"The grill needs to have the cover put back on." Fenton strode out of the room without looking back.

"We're going to get a drink of water," Vanessa offered, and disappeared kitchenward, dragging Joe after her.

Bella smiled sadly at Laura. "They're all so – tactful – aren't they?"

"Yes they are." Laura fussed with the answering machine a moment. "All right, here they are. But Bella – you can stop any time you want to, you know."

When the final words died away in the quiet room, Bella was sitting on the couch with tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Laura went to her, and hugged her tightly.

"You can see now why we are so worried that something was going on."

"Yes," Bella gulped. "Who is the 'him' that she kept talking about? Who was she so afraid of?"

"That's what we're going to find out." The deep voice from the other side of the room made both women jump; Fenton was standing there with a frown creasing his forehead.

Bella slowly rose to her feet. "I think I'd like to go upstairs and go to bed now," she murmured. She flushed, as Frank, Megan, Joe and Vanessa all came into the room. "I'm sorry – but I – it's been kind of a long day…."

"Of course, honey." Laura gave her a warm smile. "Go ahead." The others murmured their good nights, and Bella left quickly, her back straight and her shoulders tense once more.

"Maybe I should go with her—" Mrs. Hardy began.

"No." It was Megan, speaking with unaccustomed authority. "I've been watching her all evening. She's putting up a good front, making everyone think she's all right, but she isn't. She's ready to crack, but she doesn't dare do it with us around. We're strangers to her. She reminds me of myself after Dad died. I couldn't give in and break down – really break down – unless I was by myself. Bella needs that time as well. Leave her be."

"I thought she was taking things pretty well, overall," Joe observed. "She hasn't cried all evening…and that visit to the morgue must have been rough."

"It was." Frank's comment was simple, but his tone chilled his listeners.

"She hasn't let herself," Megan stated with finality. "She's controlling all that emotion – she's shoved it down beneath necessities and civilities. But it's there. Trust me…it's there."

No one doubted her.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to those kind enough to leave reviews and comments - Cherylann, Max2013, and NickTonyK.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 10

The next morning seemed to be just another normal day in the Hardy household, with Joe and Frank leaving for the airfield shortly after 8 a.m.; with Fenton going through files in his den and packing items into a briefcase, as he nearly always did before leaving on a case.

But there was a difference this time. Laura was packing too – packing clothing for herself and her husband – and making sure things were set in the house for an absence that could extend into who-knew-how-many days. Even though they were only going to be in New York City, just over an hour's drive distant, Laura didn't want to leave things helter-skelter.

And there was another difference – the presence of a small, blonde teenaged girl who obligingly helped Laura with her tasks; did everything she was asked to; smiled cheerfully at everyone… A girl who had cried herself to sleep, and carried a heartache bigger than she was. A heartache that intensified every time she looked at the woman who so resembled Linda Whittier Scarpetti…and yet wasn't Linda.

Joe arrived home from work first; his cargo-loading job finished shortly after noon. As soon as he arrived and had hastily packed a duffle bag with his belongings, he called Tony Prito to come over and be briefed on the details of his new job. Tony, having done his packing earlier in the morning, was there in fifteen minutes.

When the doorbell rang, Joe bounded through the hall to answer it. "Hey, Tony! Come on in!" He drew the slim, dark-haired and dark-eyed youth into the hallway. "I want you to meet someone. Tinkerbelle? Hey, Bella?"

"I'm right here, no need to shout." Bella walked out of the kitchen, then stopped short as she beheld Tony. "Oh…."

"This is Tony Prito, Tinkerbelle; he's a good friend of ours." Joe performed the introductions. "Tony, this is my cousin, Bella Scarpetti."

Tony's eyes had widened with appreciation when he saw the pretty blonde. He stepped forward and took her hand with a courtly gesture that made Joe's jaw drop in amazement. "Scarpetti? Italian? Not just Bella, then…. _Grazia Bella_!"

Bella blushed, dropped her chin and flicked a look upward through her eyelashes at the good-looking boy in front of her. Had Laura been there to see the instinctive move, she would have thought: _Linda, all over again!_ Linda had possessed the ability to enchant a man without effort, and her daughter had learned the technique in her cradle. A shy smile curved Bella's lips. " _Grazie mille…E` molto carino._ What a nice thing to say," she murmured. "Do you know more Italian than just that?"

" _Si, signorina._ " Tony's teeth flashed white as he grinned. "Some, anyway!" he admitted then, laughing. "I don't get a chance to speak Italian very often, actually, although Dad speaks it well. I guess I'm fairly fluent."

"I understand it better than I speak it," Bella smiled. "My dad spoke it occasionally, but I'm not all that fluent."

Joe was staring in total bewilderment. He had never seen Tony go into overt flirt mode so rapidly – and he wasn't sure he liked the Prito charm exerted toward his cousin! "Uh – let's go sit down and I can explain exactly what's going on, Tony…or maybe I don't need to, actually – what all did Frank tell you last night?"

Somewhat reluctantly, Tony's gaze unlocked from Bella's, and he followed Joe into the family room. Bella trailed along, her head cocked consideringly as she watched the boys.

"He said you and I are going to be working at a restaurant in New York as busboys, where we'll be keeping an eye out for someone who might have been slipping poison into someone's food." Tony chuckled ruefully. "And he said I might even get paid…that's good, because all of a sudden, Mr. Pizza isn't bringing in the bucks anymore, at least not to me."

"You'll be paid," Bella stated quietly, and Tony glanced over at her, surprised by the assurance in her tone.

"Bella owns the restaurant now – it belonged to her parents, and it was her mother who was poisoned," Joe explained tersely.

Tony's eyes softened, and he murmured a quick "I'm so sorry," then added another phrase in liquid Italian that made Bella's blue eyes glow with appreciation. " _Come ti capisco, Bella mia._ "

" _Apprezare,_ " she murmured.

"Tony—" Joe again attempted to gain control of the situation. "This could be dangerous, you know. You sure you're up for it?"

"Heck, yeah!" was the slightly chagrined rejoinder. "I haven't skipped out on you and Frank before, have I, just because something might be dangerous?"

"No, of course not," Joe apologized. "Anyway, we'll be staying…where? Do you know, Tinkerbelle?"

"Actually, I had an idea about that," she replied, nodding. "There's an apartment suite above Marco's. Mom and Daddy lived there when they first opened the restaurant, and more recently, they've rented it to employees when necessary. It's not being used right now, and I'm sure I can arrange it with Alexander for you and Frank and Tony to stay there."

"Good thought," Joe approved the plan. "What about Mom and Dad?"

"They'll stay at my house. They don't have to be undercover; Aunt Laura said there would be nothing unusual about them coming to New York and staying with me right now – helping with the – the funeral arrangements – and seeing if Mom had a lawyer…a will…." She broke off, biting her lip, and averted her gaze.

The boys exchanged helpless glances; neither of them knew what to say. But Bella recovered her poise in a few seconds, and continued.

"I talked to Alexander Harrington on the phone this morning. He's the manager of Marco's, but I think he's been trying to talk my mom into selling, since Daddy was killed…. He knows someone who wants to buy it...or maybe he wants it himself."

Joe's interest flared. _A manager who wants to own the restaurant…someone who was on-site all the time, and would have plenty of opportunity to lace Linda Scarpetti's food with arsenic…someone who might have been finagling the books…._

"I told him I was coming back to New York with my aunt and uncle, and that I had some friends who needed jobs. He fussed a little…but only a little." Bella smiled. She had most of the staff at Marco's wrapped around her finger, and she knew it.

"Will he mind Frank going over the books?" Joe asked quickly. _If this Alexander Harrington is reluctant to let Frank examine the finances…._

"He wasn't thrilled about it," Bella admitted. "But I assured him that Frank was a trusted friend, and that of course I intended to call in a certified accountant after a bit, but that Frank could tell me if there was anything outstandingly amiss. He agreed to it."

"Hmmm." Joe was somewhat reassured, but tucked the name Alexander Harrington away in the "suspicious" file, nonetheless.

"I just thought of something," Bella said then. "Do you two happen to own tuxedos?"

"Tuxedos?" Joe yelped. "Why would we need tuxedos?"

"Joe," she said patiently, "Marco's is a high-class Italian restaurant, not a hamburger place. The wait staff all wear tuxedos, and that includes the busboys."

"Noooooooo!" the Hardy boy wailed theatrically. "I can't do undercover work in a tux! Besides," he added hopefully. "I don't own one."

"Then you'll need to rent one," his cousin said firmly. "Tony? What about you?"

"Actually, I think I can borrow my dad's," Tony replied. "Let me go call and ask; if I can, I'll run back home and get it." To Joe's amazement, Tony didn't seem to mind this inconvenience, nor did he balk at the idea of having to wear formal attire. He picked up the Hardys' cordless phone from its place on the table, and politely walked into the entry hall to conduct his conversation. A short time later, he poked his head back into the family room.

"I'll be right back," he said, and disappeared again. The opening and closing of the front door announced his departure.

"A tuxedo!" Joe groaned again.

Bella laughed at his dismay. "Joe, it won't kill you. And I'm sure you'll look absolutely divine in one." She paused, then continued thoughtfully. "And so will Tony."

"Ugh!" Joe shuddered dramatically, then gave up the struggle. "I guess I'd better go pack some dark socks…and my dress shoes." He sighed mournfully once more, then skulked out of the room and up the stairs.

When Frank arrived home and heard about the tuxedo situation, he laughed until tears stood in his eyes. Then he reminded Joe that their father owned a tux, and that although the trousers might be a fraction long, it probably would do in this situation.

"After all, you're going to be busing tables, not going to the senior prom," the older boy reminded his irritated brother. "If your pants aren't exactly the right length, it's not likely anyone will care."

Joe wasn't much comforted, but with Laura's help, he found Fenton's formal clothing and packed it, grumbling constantly how unfair it was that _he_ was forced to wear it, and Frank wasn't expected to.

"Quit griping!" Frank finally snapped. "You've had to do worse things on cases! And this is important!"

Joe gave him a resentful glance, but subsided.

Tony returned, bearing his father's tux, pleated shirt, cummerbund and dress shoes in a garment bag. He stowed his gear in Joe's SRV, the boys having decided to take that rather than Frank's car, as it had more room. Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were going in Fenton's Volvo.

"What about the girls?" Frank asked, as he stuffed clothing in a duffle bag similar to Joe's.

"They're staying in Bayport until or unless we need them," Joe responded. "Megan assured me they're only a telephone call away, and she has an aunt that lives in New York where they can stay if they come." He thought about his conversation with Vanessa when he'd bid her goodbye _. "You watch out for yourself!" she'd warned him. "Don't forget, you're still recovering from that head injury you got last month – the one that almost made you spend graduation in the hospital!" "I'll be careful, Babe – I promise!" he'd assured her._ He only hoped he could _keep_ that promise!

At three o'clock, all was ready. The Hardys, Tony, and Bella departed for New York City. Emotions were mixed: anticipation, apprehension, grief and desolation…and a firm intention to speedily find and deal with whoever had killed Linda Scarpetti.

#####

When they arrived at Marco's, Joe followed Bella's directions to a parking lot close by. "Wait here," she said, and springing out of the Aztek, hurried into the front door of the restaurant. The boys eyed their new place of employment with interest, although they couldn't tell too much just from observing the outside. It looked like any other classy restaurant. They were anxious to see what the interior was like.

Bella returned in a few minutes. She was holding a key ring in one hand.

"Get your stuff; there's a side entrance to the apartment. You don't have to go through the restaurant proper to get home," she told the boys. Obediently, they gathered their belongings, and followed her around the corner of the building, into a blind alley. Halfway along the restaurant's length, a door was situated, and this Bella proceeded to unlock.

When they entered the building, Joe, Tony and Frank found themselves in a rather blank-looking hallway, facing a flight of stairs. Bella started mounting the steps without a backward glance; apparently they were expected to follow without questions. Tony was the first in line, carrying his garment bag with care, although his soft-sided suitcase nearly dragged on the ground. Frank shrugged, glanced at his brother, and followed, leaving Joe to bring up the rear.

At the top of the stairs, Bella unlocked another door. "I'll get you guys individual keys tomorrow," she told them. "But you'll have to make do with just this one, today and tonight."

"That's okay; we'll manage," Frank assured her, swinging his duffle bag to the floor with some relief. Not being sure how long they were staying, he had packed a little more fully than he usually did…and he had to dress nicely in his role as computer wizard/fledgling accountant; jeans and a tee shirt just didn't cut it, this time. He looked around the apartment, as Bella moved about, snapping on lights. "Bella, this is really nice!"

It was. The entrance opened into a small living room just on the left, divided from the doorway by a short half-wall. Straight ahead there was an arched opening, evidently the entrance to a kitchen and dining area; while a hallway led off to the right.

"The bedrooms and bath are down this way." Bella indicated the hallway with a wave of her hand. "There are only two – but one has twin beds in it." She led the way down the hall, with the three boys trooping after her. The first bedroom they reached was the single, and Tony automatically headed in, slinging his suitcase onto the floor, and then carefully draping the bagged tuxedo across the end of the bed. He looked around at the dresser, the nightstand, and the small closet, and smiled. "This will be just great!"

Bella, who had been looking a trifle anxious, smiled in relief, and resumed her role as tour guide. "The bathroom is here… Here's your room, Frank and Joe." She opened another door and gestured them to enter.

This room was larger than the one Tony was to occupy; there were two twin-sized beds and two dressers, with matching night tables. Frank nodded approval. "Very nice, Bella," he said once again. "This is a really nice place." Joe nodded too.

"I've always thought so," she agreed. "I don't remember living here, but I understand I did, for a year or so. Then we moved to a regular house. The one where we – I –live now." To hide her suddenly-quivering lips, Bella hastily crossed the room and pulled the curtains back on the windows. "You don't get much of a view, though. Just down into the alley, I'm afraid!"

"That's okay, Tinkerbelle," Joe said gently. "We didn't come here to admire the view."

She smiled, then. "Now – I'm afraid I need a favor, guys. I have to get to the house, to meet Aunt Laura and Uncle Fenton—" She stopped and shook her head. "That always sounds so odd! Well, anyway, I need a ride…." She eyed Joe expectantly, but before he could offer his and the Aztek's services, he was interrupted.

"I'll take you, _cara_." Tony's dark eyes glowed warmly. "If Joe will let me drive his car, that is."

"Uh – um, well – sure, Tony, I guess so," Joe stammered. He wasn't too crazy about this, but it would have seemed rude to say no. He reached into his pocket and removed his keys; handed them to his friend. "You will be careful with it, won't you?"

"Of course I will!" Tony assured him. He held out a hand to Bella. "Let's go."

"Oh, wait – do you want me to introduce you downstairs first?" She hesitated, glancing from one to the other.

"No, that's okay. We'll just eat there tonight—" Frank grinned. "and then go in tomorrow morning as employees."

"One more thing." Bella snapped her fingers. "Your names!"

"Our names?" All the boys looked confused.

"Tony's is all right. He can be Tony Prito without a problem." She smiled sweetly at Tony, who grinned in response. "But you two – your dad said that even though this is New York, not Bayport, the name 'Hardy' might make ears prick up. So although you can still be Frank and Joe, and there's no reason you can't be brothers…you need to have a different last name." Another flashing smile, and her blue eyes twinkled teasingly. "And I have just the one already picked out."

The Hardys exchanged apprehensive glances. What might Bella have chosen for them?

"How does 'Griffin' sound?" she proposed. "I have a friend at school named Fiona Griffin. I can tell Alexander and the rest that you're her brothers. She actually does have two brothers, so it's not as far-fetched as it sounds. Of course, they're 12 and 14,but still…." Bella let her voice trail off and looked inquiringly from one cousin to the other.

"Joe Griffin…." Joe mused over the name, trying it on for size. "Frank and Joe Griffin….I don't see anything wrong with it, do you?" he asked Frank, who shook his head.

"It sounds fine to me."

"That's all set, then!" Bella looked relieved. She set the key ring down on the kitchen table and headed for the front door, followed by Tony. "I'll see you in the morning. Be ready to go by about 8:30, okay? The restaurant doesn't open until noon, but of course the staff gets there earlier…and you have a lot to learn, Joe and Tony!" She exited, leaving the tantalizing sound of her laughter behind.

As the door closed behind Tony, Joe sat down limply on the couch in the living room. "She's something else!" he remarked.

"You can say that again," Frank agreed. He grinned teasingly at his younger brother. "I was surprised you let Tony take the Aztek. Isn't that the first time anyone but you has driven it? I mean, you haven't even let me drive it."

"He seemed to be so anxious to take her home," Joe made excuse, "and I didn't want to be rude…. But if he puts one ding in my baby…." He got up and headed for the bedroom, only to turn back abruptly. "Or lays one hand on my cousin…!"

Frank's grin turned to outright laughter. "I can't believe I'm hearing this! You of all people! And why would you say something like that about Tony? He's one of our oldest and closest friends!"

Joe grimaced. "Because he's one of our oldest and closest friends…because I know him so well, that's why! You didn't see him when he first met her!"

"Joe – Bella's old enough to date anyone she pleases," Frank reminded him, sobering. "And if she's anything like her mother – remember, Mom and Dad said that Grandfather Whittier couldn't stop Linda from seeing Marco. What were you thinking we could do to stop Bella?"

"We can't," Joe admitted ruefully. "But I feel protective of her, just the same."

"Joe, Tony's not likely to hurt Bella – he likes her!"

"I know, I know. I'm just not sure I'm ready to have Tony as a cousin-in-law!"

Frank snorted. "Could be worse. Could be Chet."

Joe had to laugh in spite of himself. "I don't think Devon would care for that remark." _And if circumstances were different, Frank old boy, we could have ended up with Chet for a brother-in-law…._

When Tony dropped Bella off at her house, Fenton and Laura were waiting in the Volvo, parked on the street in front. Tony got out of the Aztek and ceremoniously opened Bella's door. "Door-to-door service, _signorina_."

She smiled and let him take her hand as she got out. " _Grazie_ again, Tony. Can you find your way back to Marco's?"

"Yes, no problem." They walked to the front door of the house and waited while the Hardys got out of their car. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'll be over in the morning. I'll take a cab, or ride the subway, or have someone drop me off." She glanced down at their linked hands, and he reluctantly released her. "Good night, Tony."

"Good night, _cara_ Bella." He smiled, nodded to Fenton and Laura, and departed.

#####

Later that evening, after Bella had excused herself and gone to her room, Fenton and Laura sat quietly talking in the family room of the home that had belonged to Marco and Linda.

"Have you looked – really looked, I mean – at this house?" Laura asked.

Her husband gave her a quizzical glance. "What do you mean?"

"The photos – and other things." Laura waved her hand toward the wall where framed pictures of Linda and Marco, Linda and Bella, Bella and Marco, all three of them together, were grouped. "They look so happy! They really did have a happy marriage…after all their troubles. Daddy was so wrong. We all were wrong, to think that it wouldn't work out."

"Perhaps being united against everyone strengthened the marriage. And you weren't wrong about Marco, honey," Fenton reminded her. "You knew he wasn't a criminal."

"But I didn't stick up for her….That's all she wanted, was for us to side with her," Laura said sadly. "If we had – oh Fenton, they might have been alive now!"

"Laura, Laura, you can't say that! Marco was shot by a hold-up man…."

"Why didn't I give her more support?" Laura berated herself. "I was too intimidated by Daddy to stick up for my own sister!" She glared at him, daring him to refute her remark.

"Honey, I did try to tell your father that Marco was clean," her husband reminded her gently. "But he didn't listen to me. After all, he was an influential judge, and I was just a rookie cop. He knew what he believed, and didn't want to hear otherwise."

"But it would have made a difference in Linda's eyes. She might not have shut herself away from me." Tears slipped down Laura's cheeks. Fenton gazed at her helplessly, wanting to help, but unable to find words to comfort.

 _Linda, I won't fail you again!_ Laura said to herself. _I'll make sure your killer is found and punished…and I'll be there for Bella. I wasn't there for you…but I'll be there for her!_

#####

After Tony's return, the boys had gone out and shopped for a few groceries for breakfast; and had eaten dinner at their new place of employment. All three were impressed by the lovely décor, the courteous staff – Frank nudged Joe and Tony and discreetly pointed out the tuxedos! – and were delighted with the food.

"Mmmmm, this is great!" Joe enthusiastically attacked his fettuccine. "Why didn't we ever eat here before?" he demanded.

"Never knew about it," Frank reminded him. "but now….mmmmm, I want to bring Megan here!" He took a large mouthful of crab-stuffed halibut fillet.

"Think we can handle working here?" Tony looked a bit apprehensive as he watched the waiters and busboys deftly maneuvering between the tables. "I'm used to a pizza joint, not a fine restaurant!"

"Tony, it'll be fine!" Frank attempted to reassure his friend, but Tony was stubbornly refusing to be comforted.

"I don't want to let Bella down," he muttered.

"We won't let her down," Joe stated firmly. "We'll crack this case, and do it in record time…or my name's not Joe Hardy."

"It's not!" Frank hissed in warning. "It's Joe Griffin!"

###

Now they stood again in Marco's, reporting for work. Bella had arrived a few minutes before, and escorted them down the stairs and into a back entrance that led directly into the kitchen.

"Alexander, I'd like you to meet Frank and Joe Griffin, and Tony Prito," Bella said, to the man standing in the kitchen. The boys eyed him with interest. Alexander Harrington was in his fifties, perhaps; of medium height, and strikingly good-looking, with dark eyes and prematurely silvered hair. He shook their hands, one after another.

"Frank – Joe, Tony. Nice to meet you. I hope you'll enjoy working at Marco's. Frank, I'll show you Linda's office, so you can get started, and let Bella introduce Joe and Tony to the kitchen staff." He beckoned to the elder Hardy boy, and led the way out of the kitchen.

The next few minutes were filled with a confusion of names and faces – Enrico, the head chef, who was small and wiry, with dark eyes, dark hair, and a clipped mustache; Rick, Alphonse, and Bryce, the three assistant chefs; Jesse, Courtney, Aaron and Andy, who were either waiters or busboys, Joe wasn't sure which. They all seemed friendly enough, but Joe despaired of ever getting them all straight. He knew it would be worse when they were all dressed in formal clothes; at least right now he had clothing differences to help identify them.

The rest of the morning passed quickly as Tony and Joe were instructed in their duties and shown where things were located. Joe wished he had time to do some checking around in the kitchen for possible clues to a poisoner, or a chance to talk to the other members of the staff, but he was much too busy!

At 11:30, they changed hurriedly into their formal wear. Joe stared at his reflection with considerable resentment as he struggled with the hook on his tie. _This isn't fair! Frank doesn't mind dressing up and looking like a penguin!_ When he was finally ready, however, he surveyed himself with satisfaction. From temporarily tamed waves of gleaming blonde hair down to his shiny black shoes, Joe Hardy looked as elegant and well-turned out as a catalog model.

Tony came in, fussing with his cummerbund. He too, looked dashing indeed. His dark good looks were set off by the crisp, black-and-white of his formal clothing. "This thing is too big!" he complained. "My dad's bigger around than I am!" He sighed, then looked at his friend and grinned. "Not bad, Hardy. Vanessa would love to see you now."

Joe gave him a warning look, but the comment comforted him a little. "Let me see that," he said, extending his hand for the cummerbund, and adjusting the buckles. "There. All set."

When they reported back to the kitchen, where Enrico and his assistants were preparing entrees for lunch. Joe finally saw his chance.

"Say, Rick," he began, sidling up next to the assistant chef, who was carefully arranging salads on small plates. "do you guys ever have problems with mice or anything like that here?" Joe knew that rodent poison usually didn't contain arsenic any more, but it was the only thing he could think of that might possibly be in common use in the restaurant's kitchen. "Enough that you need to put out rat poison, for instance?"

" _Dio mio_!" A sharp voice shrieked from behind Joe, making him jump. " Rats? You think there are rats in Enrico's kitchen? You _stupido asino_! I will slice you up in little pieces for that insult! You will become shish kebabs that I will serve for  lunch!"

Joe whirled, and his heart jumped into his throat. Coming toward him, eyes filled with insane fury, was Enrico – and the chef was brandishing a wicked-looking knife!


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to those kind enough to leave reviews and comments.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 11

Joe backpedaled frantically, trying to get out of range of the enraged chef. "Enrico! I didn't mean—" He leaped sideways, evading a swipe of the French boning knife the man was wielding with such great efficiency. The other chefs had scattered; none of them cared to get in between their superior and the unfortunate Hardy boy.

"Enrico! Stop it!" The swinging door from the dining room was pushed inward, and Alexander Harrington stood there, scowling. Tony Prito was directly behind him, wide-eyed with shock at Joe's predicament. "Get back to work. Go on – _filare_!"

With great reluctance, Enrico lowered the knife and turned to his work, favoring Joe with a furious scowl as he did so.

Now Harrington turned to Joe. "I don't know what you said or did to incur that…but I don't want it happening again, understand?"

"I just—" Joe began.

"Understand?" the manager repeated. "There's no place for trouble-makers here, even if you are friends of Bella's."

Joe's chin jutted defiantly. "You can't fire me without Bella's okay!" he snapped.

Behind Harrington's shoulder, Tony rolled his eyes to the ceiling at _that_ comment, but Harrington answered more patiently than either Joe or Tony expected him to.

"Look, Joe…Bella's a sweet kid – and I'm really sorry for all she's going through. But she's a kid. She doesn't understand what all is involved in running a restaurant like Marco's. And one of the most important things is not upsetting the head chef. I mean it; if you can't get along with Enrico, you're out. Plain and simple. Got it?"

"Yeah." Joe nodded. "I got it." Outwardly acquiescent, Joe was fuming inside – and also suspicious. _You seem awfully eager to get rid of me, Mr. Harrington! A fuss with a chef is hardly a reason for firing someone…but you're all ready to do it! Just what are you hiding?_

#####

Laura Hardy hummed softly as she finished emptying a dresser drawer full of Linda's clothing. Bella had asked if she could start on this chore, saying that she, herself, couldn't manage to face it. Laura found that if she kept her mind on the music, she could manage to do the necessary tasks without starting to cry. It kept her from thinking…and remembering…and regretting.

The sound of the front door chimes startled her. It might be Fenton, of course; he had gone to see his old partner and good friend, Sam Peterson of the New York City police. Perhaps he had finished his meeting much sooner than anticipated?

Laura opened the door, keeping the security chain on, and stared through the opening. Standing on the doorstep was a man with sleek dark hair and dark eyes; he appeared older than Fenton, possibly in his middle fifties. He was well-dressed, in a gray suit and dark red tie.

"Yes?" Laura didn't release the safety chain.

"L-linda?" The man exclaimed, sounding shocked. Laura narrowed her eyes. Who was this person? Why wouldn't he expect Linda to be here? It was her house, wasn't it?

"No, I'm not Linda. I'm her sister, Laura. Laura Hardy." Suddenly, Laura knew who this was. Even before the man spoke again, she knew.

"Ah – Laura. Yes, I remember now. I'm Dominic Scarpetti, Marco's brother." The shock was gone from his voice; it was silky-smooth.

Laura hesitated. Politeness said she should open the door and admit this man; caution warned her against it. Politeness won. She released the chain.

"Would you care to come in?"

"Thank you." Dominic smiled down at her as he entered; as he brushed past, Laura caught the scent of expensive cologne.

"You were looking for Linda?" Laura led the way into the formal living room and seated herself on a chair. "Please sit down, Mr. Scarpetti."

"Call me Dominic, please." He took a seat on the small sofa. "No. I was looking for Bella. I visit her sometimes, but usually not when Linda is here. That's why I was so surprised to see you – thinking it was Linda. I've tried to become friends with Isabelle, since her father's death."

"Yes…she mentioned that you came to Marco's funeral." Laura looked at Dominic curiously. _What does he know? Does he know about Linda?_

"Bella isn't here," Laura went on. "She went down to the restaurant. She has some friends who needed jobs, and she arranged for Alexander to take them on, I understand." She paused. "Had you heard about Linda?"

"Heard about Linda? Heard what?" Dominic inquired. "Has something happened to her?"

"Linda died, two days ago, in Bayport." Laura answered him steadily enough, but her heart was aching inside her chest. She watched him narrowly, gauging his reactions. _Did you know about it already, Dominic? Did you have something to do with it, perhaps?_

"Linda died?" Scarpetti gasped. "How dreadful! Poor little Bella – is she all right? How did it happen?"

"We're not sure," Laura informed him, managing this half-truth with aplomb. After all,they didn't know for sure how she was given the poison _…._ "And yes, Bella is managing to hold up."

"What a dreadful shame." Dominic's silky voice nearly caressed the words.

"Why did you contact Bella at her father's funeral, Mr. Scarpetti? Why did you even go to the funeral, if Marco was estranged from your family?" Laura wondered just how thin the ice she was treading on was, but she was determined to find out everything she could from this deceptively smooth personage. His eyes betrayed no expression; looking into them was like gazing at a blank stone wall.

"As I told Bella, Marco was my baby brother, and I always regretted his distancing himself from our family. I wanted to become acquainted with Bella; to let her know that she had relatives who cared for her, on her father's side of the family." He eyed Laura speculatively. "You weren't there – at the funeral, I mean."

"I didn't know about Marco's death until yesterday," Laura said, raising her chin slightly. She fully appreciated the implied criticism. "If I had known, do you really think I and my husband wouldn't have been there?"

"Of course not," Scarpetti said soothingly. "Laura…Mrs. – Hardy, that is…we were both victims of a family feud that kept us away from our loved siblings. I was trying to get back some of what I lost when Marco walked away from us."

 _Marco walked away from you because of what you were – and are!_ Laura thought furiously. "Bella came to us for help after her mother's death…Dominic." _Take_ _that_ _, you smooth-talking slimeball!_ "And Fenton and I are going to do everything we can to help her." _Does the name Fenton Hardy ring any bells, Dominic? Send a chill up your spine, I hope?_

The man rose to his feet. "I really must be going now. Please tell Bella I stopped by, and pass along my heartfelt condolences, won't you?"

Laura showed him to the door, her face a pleasantly smiling mask. But once he was gone – and the safety chain engaged! – she stood and stared at the closed door for a long moment, thinking hard. Then, with a resolute expression, she got her purse out of the entry closet. After making sure she had the house key with her, she opened the door and stepped outside. Laura Hardy knew what she had to do…and she was thankful that Fenton wasn't there to stop her.

#####

After his brush with death at knifepoint, Joe made sure to behave very circumspectly, and to concentrate on his duties for the next hour or so. Enrico pointedly ignored him, which Joe felt was a lucky circumstance. The other chefs and the wait staff were busy with their work, and as the lunch crowd filtered in, Joe's own duties piled up. He had no time to think about mysterious poisons or potential murderers; he was too busy clearing tables!

At one point in time, he saw Frank and Bella sitting at a corner table, eating lunch and talking. The table wasn't one of Joe's, nor was it Tony's; there was no way for the younger Hardy to check with his brother on whether or not Frank had made any significant findings in the restaurant's finances. Joe managed to catch Frank's eye, and waved, but added a gesture indicating he couldn't come over to talk. Frank grinned and nodded.

As Bella and Frank left the main dining room, Frank intending to return to Linda's office and resume his analysis of computer spreadsheets and bank statements, the front door of the restaurant swung open to admit a sophisticated-looking man with dark hair and eyes. The man caught sight of them, and his reaction was immediate.

"Bella! _Poverina bambina_!" He strode forward and caught her against himself in a hug. "I just heard about your mother! I am so sorry, little one!"

"Uncle Dom!" She hugged him in return. "I'm so glad you're here!"

"Isabella, you shouldn't be alone in that house. You could come and stay with me; would you like to do that?"

"Thank you," Bella said, "but I'm not alone. My Aunt Laura and Uncle Fenton from Bayport are staying there with me. Laura is my mother's sister. They'll be there at least until after…the funeral." _And until we find out who murdered my mother!_

Frank observed this newcomer with interest. So this was 'Uncle Dom.'

"Uncle Dom, I'd like you to meet – a friend of mine, Frank Griffin. Frank, this is my uncle, Dominic Scarpetti." Frank extended his hand, and after a moment of sizing him up, Dominic accepted the handclasp. Frank noted that the man's hands were very smooth; Dominic evidently didn't do manual labor. "Frank's helping me by looking over the books for the restaurant, Uncle Dom. I'll have a professional accountant go over them later, of course, but right now Frank's looking for any glaring errors."

"But surely there are no glaring errors in the books at Marco's?" Scarpetti frowned slightly. "Everything here is shipshape, right? And aboveboard?"

"Everything looks fine so far," Frank conceded coolly. _Dominic Scarpetti…part of the Scarpetti 'family' in more senses than one. But Bella thinks he's wonderful, apparently._ Bella's opinion notwithstanding, Frank had no intention of trusting Dominic Scarpetti any further than he could throw him.

After a few moments of stilted conversation, Dominic excused himself and went to talk to Alexander Harrington. Frank went back into Linda's office, where he turned on the computer again and resumed his tasks. But he made a mental note to ask his father for a complete background check of Alexander Harrington. If the man was pals with Dominic Scarpetti….

###

Scarpetti drew Alexander Harrington aside. Ostensibly, he was talking about the restaurant, or the weather, or politics, or the Yankees' chances for another pennant….but in reality, their conversation was of a slightly darker cast.

"So who's this Frank Griffin?" Scarpetti inquired. "Where did he come from?"

"He's a friend of Bella's. Brother of a school friend, or something like that," Harrington replied. "He's going over the financial records before she calls in an accountant."

"No problems, though…right?"

"No…he seems all right. His brother's a troublemaker, though…already had a run-in with Enrico. I would have fired him right away if he wasn't a friend of Bella's. And the little twit had the nerve to call me on it! Said 'you can't fire me without Bella's say-so.'"

Dominic growled under his breath, but said no more about the Griffin brothers. If Alex wasn't worried….After a short time he sought out Bella once more, to say goodbye.

"Isabella, dear girl. I must go now, but I'll be in contact with you again soon. Probably tomorrow. Have the funeral arrangements been made for your mother yet?"

"No, not yet." She shook her head. "But by tomorrow I'm sure I'll know something more." She tiptoed to kiss his cheek. "Goodbye, Uncle Dominic. Thank you for coming here to see me."

" _Arrivederci_ , Bella." He planted a kiss on her forehead. "Until tomorrow."

#####

Laura Hardy paid the taxi driver and alighted from the cab. As the man drove away, she stood and stared at the imposing edifice in front of her. _It looks like something out of a movie set_! she thought to herself. _Confidence, Laura! You have to do this for Linda…and for Bella._

Crossing the sidewalk, Laura stepped onto a brick walk which led to a short flight of stone steps. She mounted the steps slowly, still staring up at the house which she was approaching. Finally she reached the front door, and stood gazing at it for a long moment. She felt a shiver run through her body as she reached for the classically-styled brass door knocker. She raised it – and then rapped sharply on the rich wooden surface of the massive door.

After what seemed like an eternity, she heard footsteps approaching from the other side. The door was opened, and she beheld a tall, stern-faced woman in a dark, severely-cut dress.

"Yes?"

"My name is Laura Hardy. I would like to speak to Mr. Scarpetti, please…Antonio Scarpetti."

#####

In the quiet of a dimly-lit office, a hand reached for the telephone receiver, and numbers were swiftly dialed from memory. The phone rang twice before being picked up on the other end.

"I have a job for you. There's someone working at Marco's Restaurant right now…a guy by the name of Frank Griffin. He's going through the financial books. I want him stopped." The speaker listened for a moment, then continued. "Whatever it takes to convince him to stay away from there. He's probably not worth the time or attention, but I don't like leaving things to chance. If he is a problem, he won't be one after you're finished with him. If he's not…well, he's a nobody, and you'll get some practice time. Take care of it."

The receiver was silently replaced in its cradle.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you so much to Cherylann, Max2013, and BMSH for the kind comments!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 12

Laura Hardy waited, outwardly calm, but inwardly quaking. Would she be allowed to enter? The housekeeper eyed her curiously, and hesitated a long moment, then swung the door open and gestured for her to come in.

"Wait here. I'll find out if he can see you." She turned and went down a long hallway, leaving Laura to stand in the entry, surveying her surroundings with interest.

The house was old; well-built and beautifully furnished, from what she could see. A distinct air of riches and power seemed to emanate from the very walls; from the polished hardwood of the entry hall to the crystal chandelier hanging above it. Glimpses of beautifully-appointed rooms on either side made Laura half envious…and Laura Whittier had been used to beautifully appointed rooms and expensive furnishings, during her growing-up years.

Footsteps approaching announced the housekeeper's return. She still was giving Laura curious glances, but all she said was:

"Follow me, please."

Laura did as she was bid, her heart hammering. Suddenly she wondered what had made her decide to come here. What would Antonio Scarpetti be like? She had never seen a picture of him, or a newspaper photo. Visions of Marlon Brando's "Godfather" flashed through her mind. Just how sinister would an Italian mob boss be?

"In here, please." Laura was escorted through wide double doors, solid oak, from the looks of them, and into a spacious room dominated by a large desk. Behind this desk, a man was seated, apparently doing paperwork. He laid down his pen and looked calmly at his visitor. Laura heard the doors quietly being closed behind her, and gulped.

"Mrs. Hardy? I am Antonio Scarpetti. How may I be of service?"

Laura took a deep breath and looked at her host…and was instantly relieved. Where she had envisioned Marlon Brando, instead, she saw a silver-haired aristocrat with chiseled features. _Cesar Romero!_ the errant thought flitted through her mind. But almost as quickly, she knew she couldn't relax; Antonio Scarpetti might be suave and sophisticated and handsome and possess courtly manners…but he was still extremely dangerous!

"Mr. Scarpetti, I – I'm sorry to disturb you, but I wanted to speak to you about something very important. A – family matter." Too late, Laura realized the connotations her words might possess. _But it_ _is_ _a family matter! His family…my family…our mutual family._ She hadn't considered that aspect before; she was technically related to this man!

"A family matter? And that would be?" Scarpetti raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"My sister Linda…was married to your youngest son, Marco." Laura watched the man's eyes narrow slightly. "She came to my home two days ago. But she died shortly after her arrival."

"How terribly unfortunate!" he exclaimed. "My sympathies, Mrs. Hardy."

"Thank you. Due to the circumstances of her death, Mr. Scarpetti, an autopsy was performed – and the results showed that Linda died from kidney failure – a result of the administration of arsenic. In other words, she was being poisoned."

"That is indeed disturbing. I understand why you are upset about it." Antonio toyed with the gold pen on his desk. "But I don't understand why you believe I can help you."

"My husband is a private investigator; perhaps you have heard of him…Fenton Hardy?" Laura waited for his response, and was rewarded by a brief nod. "Naturally, he is looking into the circumstances of Linda's death. I came here hoping that you might be able to shed some light on the situation."

"Unfortunately, Mrs. Hardy, I am unable to do that. You are surely aware that my son was estranged from me and the rest of his family. I had nothing to do with Marco and his wife since the day he turned his back on us. I could have made his life easy…but he didn't want my help."

To her surprise, Laura found herself sympathizing. Although she realized that Antonio Scarpetti was as crooked as a spiral staircase, she heard real sorrow in his voice when he spoke of Marco.

"You know, of course, that Marco was killed a short time ago?" she asked then. "During a robbery attempt at his restaurant?"

"I know." Scarpetti's voice was very quiet, and suddenly there was a rumbling, lethal note in its deep, silky tones. "The person responsible for Marco's death has been dealt with."

Laura swallowed; and felt a shudder run through her. She suspected that Antonio's vigilante justice had been swift, in retaliation for his son's death. "And you know that there is a young daughter left orphaned because of my sister's death?"

"I know of Isabelle, yes." Now Antonio's handsome face crinkled with a smile, and Laura found herself instinctively smiling in response. _Damn_ _this man and his Italian charm!_

"Although we have never met, I have heard about her." He straightened his already arrow-straight back and met Laura's eyes squarely. "I won't lie to you, Mrs. Hardy. Marco disappointed me greatly by leaving the family, but the thing that disappoints me most is that I've spent 17 years not knowing my granddaughter. I don't wish to let that become 18 years. I would like very much to meet her; get to know her; make her part of my family."

 _Make her part of your family? Linda's daughter part of "The Scarpetti Family"? No, no way!_

Now Antonio was rising to his feet, indicating that the interview was over. "I am very sorry about your sister's death – but I am afraid that I cannot be of any help to you in apprehending the person who caused it." He walked to the doors and opened them; the very soul of courtesy. "Good day, Mrs. Hardy."

Laura admitted defeat. She inclined her head in a brief nod. "Goodbye, Mr. Scarpetti. Thank you for seeing me." As she stepped into the hallway, however, the old man reached to put a hand on her arm.

"Mrs. Hardy – please give my most sincere sympathies to Isabella." There was genuine pleading in the dark eyes…and then suddenly the pleading was replaced by a glimmer of admiration and respect. "And to you, on the loss of your sister."

She nodded. "All right, Mr. Scarpetti…I will tell Bella. And thank you."

Laura walked down the hall to the front door, where the stern-visaged housekeeper waited to show her out. Once outside the house, however, her control cracked. She leaned limply against the heavy front door, and felt her knees quivering beneath her. _Oh Fenton, you're never going to believe this one!_

#####

Seated behind his desk once more, a scowling Antonio Scarpetti reached for the telephone and dialed a certain number. When it was answered….

"What's this about Marco's widow dying of arsenic poisoning? Killing her wasn't in the plan! I didn't want her hurt – just out of the way!"

 _"I didn't mean to kill her,"_ came the reply. _"I was simply trying to make it appear that she was incompetent, so that Isabella wouldn't listen to her. Her death was an…unfortunate…side effect."_

"You made a bad mistake. Don't you know who she was? Her sister is married to Fenton Hardy, you _asino deficiente!_ Fenton Hardy, the investigator!" Scarpetti paused, but the person on the other end of the line remained silent. Finally, Antonio resumed speaking. "This had better not backfire…if your bungling brings Hardy down on me – anymore than having his wife show up at my door – there will be trouble…for them and for you! Now, no more mistakes!" The receiver slammed down.

#####

Frank Hardy sat up straight in his chair and arched his back gingerly. He was stiff and cramped from bending over file folders, and his eyes ached; he rubbed them with his fists. So far, the financial books at Marco's looked absolutely beyond reproach; Linda had kept records in an impeccable fashion.

Frank glanced at the digital clock on the desk. Three-thirty. He decided to switch from financial records to personnel files for a bit. He opened a desk drawer full of hanging files and began searching through them.

When a light tap sounded on the door, Frank jumped in his chair. He had been totally immersed in reading the information contained in one of the personnel files. Before he could say anything, the door opened, and Joe popped his head into the room.

"It's getting pretty late, Frank. I'm done with work for the day. The dinner shift's on now." Joe closed the office door behind himself, and walked over to survey the desk, which was covered with file folders. "How's it going?"

"Well, I've found that Marco's was making money, and that Linda seemed to be good at taking care of it. But I've also found something else very interesting. Look here…." He tapped the folder he had been reading so intently. Joe leaned over his shoulder to scan the page.

"Alexander Harrington, hmmm? What about him?"

Frank sighed inwardly. He had hoped Joe would read and figure it out for himself, instead of waiting for him to translate. "About five years ago, Marco's changed from being a small, simple Italian restaurant to being a much more upscale place; the way it is now. To do that takes money…and apparently Marco and Linda didn't have enough money to do what they wanted. Look at what happened: Alexander Harrington appears out of nowhere, and puts up enough money for the renovations. He owns 40% of Marco's, Joe! Bella is still the major owner, but Harrington is a large minor holder."

"Bella said he was trying to get Linda to sell, after Marco's death," Joe observed. "But what's wrong with that, Frank? It isn't unusual, is it?"

"No, it's not unusual, except in this case, where the owners have both died recently in strange circumstances," Frank replied. "And where Alexander Harrington seems to be on fairly good terms with Dominic Scarpetti…it's unusual enough that I'm going to ask Dad to get every scrap of information he can about him."

"Dominic Scarpetti!" Joe cried incredulously. "How do you know that?"

"Because he was here; I met him," Frank answered calmly. "He looks exactly what you'd think an Italian Mafia person should look like…sort of like Paul Anka."

"Who's Paul Anka?" his brother inquired, his forehead creasing in a puzzled frown.

"Singer from the early sixties. Forget Paul Anka; he's not important! The important thing is that Dominic is on friendly terms with Alexander Harrington. And that Alex is a major shareholder in this restaurant."

"You can call Dad from the apartment on your cell; you don't want to do it from here. You never can tell when someone might have bugged the phones," Joe warned him, as Frank had automatically reached for the telephone. Frank nodded at the reminder, grinning as he thought _You and those phone taps! If there's a bugged phone anywhere in the vicinity, you either found it, or you placed it!_ He began to close folders and replace them in the hanging files.

"I'm absolutely bushed!" the elder Hardy commented. He glanced briefly at Joe. "You've already changed out of your tux, I see!" he teased. "Are we eating here tonight? And where's Bella? Did she stick around, or did she go back to her house?"

"She's still here. She's talking to people…and flirting with Tony! Yeah, let's eat here again. The food's great, and that way I can get an idea of who all works the evening shift; there's a whole new bunch of waiters and busboys!" Joe watched Frank tidy up the desk and re-lock drawers. "Other than the info on Harrington, anything else turn up?"

"Nope." Frank got to his feet, stretching tiredly again. "Let's get out of here, find Tony, and get some dinner!"

The boys soon found themselves seated in one of the smaller dining areas. Joe and Tony joked a bit with their waiter, a young man named Daniel who had come on with the evening shift, but all three of them were tired from their day's work, and conversation lagged. Just as they were finishing their entrees, Bella joined them.

"How did the afternoon go?" she asked, her blue eyes searching each face in turn. "Did everything go all right?" She dug in a pocket. "Here are more apartment keys."

"Just fine," Joe told her. He sighed. "Sorry, Tinkerbelle; I'm not up to scintillating banter tonight. I thought I was in good shape, but hefting those trays of dishes around is hard work!" He didn't think Bella knew about his fracas with Enrico, and he wasn't about to mention it; the less she knew about _that_ , the better!

"Did you find anything out?" Bella inquired. She glanced around furtively at the various members of the wait staff circulating the room.

"Not a thing," Tony remarked. "You were probably right when you said that no one on the staff would have it in for your mom, but we wanted to make sure."

"If she didn't get the poison here, though…" Bella paused. "that would mean that she got it somewhere else. At home…." She broke off, and stared across the table at Frank in sudden apprehension."

"Bella, Bella, take it easy." Frank attempted to soothe his cousin. "Panicking over this isn't going to help anything."

She didn't say anything more, but her eyes looked haunted.

After they had finished their dinners, Joe and Tony went into the kitchen to check on their work schedules for the following day. To Joe's surprise, they were scheduled for the later shift. _Oh well, that will give us a chance to get to know some of the other staff people,_ he realized. He stopped to bid farewell to a few of their fellow-employees; Enrico, however, was not one of those so favored. Joe tiptoed around the irascible chef, who was busy with dinner preparations, being as unobtrusive as possible.

Frank waited a few minutes, then decided to go on ahead to their apartment alone. _Joe and Tony can catch up!_ he thought. He glanced around for Bella, caught her eye and waved, then motioned towards the door to indicate his departure.

Frank stepped outside, into the hot, humid, July-in-New-York night. He stopped on the threshold to let his eyes adjust to the dimly lit alleyway behind the restaurant before heading towards the other doorway which led to the upstairs apartment.

As he stepped away from the door, three shadowy figures materialized in the gloom. Frank paused, instinctively falling into a defensive posture.

"You Griffin?" a deep bass voice inquired.

"Maybe. What if I am?"

"We want a word with you," the voice replied, and the three figures converged upon the elder Hardy boy.

Frank started to back up, and found he had no place to retreat to. The restaurant wall was at his back, and the three men were closing in. He glanced right, then left.

"What word would that be?" he asked, hoping to stall them until Joe or Tony arrived on the scene.

"Stay away from Marco's!" was the snarled reply. Before Frank could make a move in either direction, two of the men had seized his arms. The one on the left twisted his arm behind his back; the one on the right followed suit, and Frank found himself immobilized. He lashed out with his left foot, and managed to connect with one assailant, but now the third one stepped in. Although the man he had struck let out a yell of pain, his grip didn't loosen, and Frank knew he was in trouble. He managed to tighten his abdominal muscles, anticipating the first blow….

When it arrived, even the tightened muscles didn't help much. The pain made Frank double forward, and the air left his lungs with a _whoosh_. Before he could do more than gasp in another breath, a second blow fell. This time, he hadn't had time to prepare himself, and pain exploded in his midsection.

Frank struggled against the restraining hands, to no avail. He attempted to kick again, to stamp on toes, and although he felt his foot hit something, it seemed to make no difference to his attackers. He felt fists strike his sides, felt white-hot pain as something in his ribcage yielded to the assault. He was sinking beneath a dark tide….

"Frank!" A shrill scream split the night and momentarily the fists ceased pounding. "What are you doing to him…? Leave him alone! Joe! Tony!" The new voice faded into the distance, and Frank was suddenly released; thrown down onto the rough surface of the alley. New pain flared through him at the impact.

"Leave Marco's and don't come back! Or next time, we won't play so nice!" he heard a disembodied voice say, somewhere above him, and then the dark tide overwhelmed him.

Summoned by Bella's frantic screams, Joe Hardy barreled through the back door of the restaurant, to find three men standing over the motionless form of his older brother. With a shout, Joe flung himself at them, heedless of the odds. He caught the nearest by a shoulder and yanked him about, then shot his right fist into the man's face. As he did so, Joe realized that the man was masked; had Frank stumbled onto another robbery attempt?

Three-to-one odds aren't the best; Joe got in one good blow, but before he could follow it up with another, one of the men had whirled, and with the savage ability of a Shaquille O'Neal fighting for a rebound, had shoved his elbow directly into the younger Hardy boy's jaw. Joe fell back, and as he did so, the third man backhanded him across the face. He stumbled backwards, and felt his feet slip from beneath him; he fell heavily to the ground and his head struck the pavement with a thud.

But now unexpected reinforcements had arrived: Tony and Bella. Tony leaped into the fray, fists flailing; Bella, screeching like a banshee, kicked any shins she could handily reach, and struck hard with her fists, darting out of range if any of the masked men tried to grab at her.

"Let's get outta here! We did what we came for!" one of them shouted, and suddenly all three were running toward the alley's exit. Tony started after them in pursuit, but was stopped by Bella's wail:

"Tony, come back – they're hurt!"


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to those persons kind enough to leave reviews and commentary.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 13

Tony swung about and hastened back to his friends' aid. Bella was kneeling beside Joe, dabbing at his face, the lower half of which appeared, in the wan light of a couple of street lamps, to be drenched in blood. As he did so, the back door opened once more, and several of the staff emerged, alerted by Bella's screams.

"What's happened?" "Is someone hurt?" "Jeez, it's Griffin…" "No, both Griffins!" "You all right, Bella?" "Hey, Prito, what's going on?"

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?" That was Andy, whose wiry, whip-thin body, merry, freckled face and long brown hair made Tony think of a monkey. Now, however, those teasing brown eyes were filled with concern.

"Wait a minute on the ambulance," Tony replied, "but maybe you could get Bella a towel or something, to wipe off the blood?" He moved to kneel beside Frank, without waiting to see if he was obeyed.

"Frank – Frank, boy – can you hear me?" Tony gently shook the elder Hardy boy's shoulder, but Frank lay unmoving and unresponsive. Tony could see no blood on his face; whatever his injuries were, they hadn't marked his features. "Frank? Come on, wake up…."

Andy returned with a towel, handed it to Bella, and then shepherded the other waiters and chefs back inside. "Let me know if you want me to call the medics."

At last, Frank moved his head slightly, and moaned. Tony leaned closer. "Frank?"

Dark eyes fluttered open, and Frank attempted to focus on the face hovering above him. "J-joe?"

"No, pal…it's me, Tony. Where are you hurt?"

Frank didn't answer in words, but his hand moved protectively toward his ribs, and he moaned again. "Where's…Joe…?"

"He's here." Tony glanced over at Bella, and was relieved to see that Joe was stirring. He heard a muffled groan. "How is he, Bella?"

"Bleeding…" she murmured. "His mouth's cut up…Joe, stay still – let me look." She pressed the towel against his mouth for a moment, then gently inspected the damage. "The insides of your lips got cut on your teeth."

The younger Hardy boy propped himself on his elbows. Slowly, aided by Bella, he sat upright, and felt his jaw gingerly. He leaned over and cautiously spat out a mouthful of blood, then groaned again. "I think – m' teeth're loose…" he mumbled, cradling his jaw. He ran an investigative tongue around the inside of his mouth and flinched. "Ow!"

"Your teeth are loose?" Bella gasped in alarm.

"Jus' a…couple…li'l bit….S'okay; they'll tighten back in." Joe cradled his chin in one hand, and rubbed the back of his head fretfully with the other. "Must've hit my head….'S Frank hurt?"

"He doesn't look too good," Tony admitted. "I think we'd better get you both to an emergency room—"

"No!" Frank disagreed, with surprising firmness, considering his barely-conscious state.

"But Frank—" Bella began; Joe, however, interrupted her.

"It's th' name thing," he mumbled through his fingers.

"They can't go to the hospital as Frank and Joe Griffin; they don't have identification for those names," Tony clarified for the bewildered Bella. "And they don't want to blow their cover. We'll have to do all the patching up ourselves. I just hope we can…." He turned back to his friend. "Frank, where do you hurt?" he asked once more.

"Here…." Frank clutched at his left side. "I think something – may have – cracked." He tried to sit up and flinched, but persisted, finally succeeding. "On second thought...maybe…they're just bruised."

"Let's get you inside." Tony carefully helped Frank to his feet, and put an arm about his waist. "Think you can manage the stairs up to the apartment?"

"I don't have much choice," Frank grunted. He leaned on Tony's shoulder. "Joe needs – an ice pack…several ice packs."

"Tony, help Frank up to the apartment," Bella directed. "I'll take Joe into the kitchen and get him cleaned up a little, and then we'll bring up as many ice packs as we can carry. Joe's not the only one who needs them."

"Bella—" Tony stopped her with a gesture. "You were really something else against those hoods. I didn't know you knew martial arts!"

"I don't!" she confessed. "But they didn't know that. Daddy always said that an effective weapon was not showing fear. I never had to put the advice to a test before! I guess he was right." She smiled sadly. "Living in New York all this time, and I never had a bit of trouble. And now just look…."

"You were great, Bella _cara_ ….Okay, you take Joe, and I'll handle Frank."

Inside the kitchen, Bella had to pilot Joe carefully around scurrying staff members busy with dinners. She found a chair somewhere – the dazed Hardy boy wondered where it had come from; he didn't remember seeing one there before! – and settled him into it gently.

"Just sit still and rest," she instructed him. "I'll get something to wash off that blood—"

"Here," a new voice cut in. "I will do….Bella, get plastic bags, _per favore_ , and fill them with ice."

Joe looked up to see who was talking – and blinked, stunned. The speaker was Enrico, the head chef! The little man was holding a wet towel, with which he proceeded to gently sponge the blood from Joe's face. Joe couldn't restrain his flinches; it _hurt_!

" _Scusate,"_ Enrico murmured. "I'm sorry to hurt you." Before Joe could manage a reply, the chef continued speaking in a low tone. "Perhaps you were not so wrong, after all, Joe Griffin…about the rats at Marco's. But the rats you met up with had two legs, not four…."

Joe met the man's dark, concerned gaze, and managed a slight grin, despite the pain it cost him. "Yeah…."

"Joe, do you think you can make it up the stairs now?" Bella hurried up to them, holding a large plastic grocery sack full of quickly-manufactured ice packs. "Enrico, thank you so much…."

" _Ma certemente,"_ he replied. "Take good care of him, Bella _mia_." Enrico assisted Joe to his feet. "Sleep now," he advised. "Sleep until time to come to work tomorrow."

"Thank you. I'll try," Joe mumbled, and again laid a hand against his jaw. He had a feeling it was going to be a long night.

When they arrived at the apartment, they found Tony hovering over Frank, who was sprawled on top of his bed.

"Do you hurt anywhere else?" Tony was asking with concern. "Or is it just your ribs?"

"My shoulders ache, but that's just from my arms being twisted. It's mostly the ribs," Frank replied tiredly.

"Aspirin," Bella pronounced from the hallway. Tony turned and grinned at her, and Frank summoned what he devoutly hoped was a smile. "You need something stronger than that; but if you won't see a doctor for a prescription, aspirin will have to do."

Joe was just now getting a good look at his older brother. Leaving his cousin's support, he moved as quickly as he could to Frank's side. "You look like hell," he observed, laying a hand on Frank's shoulder.

"If you think I look bad, try looking in the mirror," Frank retorted; despite the joking words, his dark eyes were shadowed with concern. "Your jaw's going to be the size of a softball in an hour, if you don't get some ice on it right away."

"Frank, what was all that about, anyway?" Joe inquired, sitting down on the edge of Frank's bed and ignoring the commentary on his appearance. "Another robbery attempt?"

"Not a chance!" Frank growled. "They checked to make sure I was one of the 'Griffin' brothers – and they then told me to get away from Marco's and stay away. With emphasis, I might add!" He gingerly massaged his sore ribs.

"Uh-oh!" Tony's eyebrows shot up. "Your cover isn't blown – but it didn't need to be! Whoever it is didn't care who you were; it was the fact that you're checking the finances?"

"Apparently." Frank made a face. "Which means that there's something someone wants to remain hidden."

Bella had made a hasty trip to the bathroom, and now returned bearing two glasses of water and a large bottle of Advil capsules, which she carefully doled out to the two brothers. Meanwhile, Tony had removed the ice packs from the shopping bag. He now headed to the bathroom, and came back with a couple of bath towels. He wrapped several of the zippered bags of ice in one, and positioned it carefully against Frank's left side.

"How's that feel?" He repeated his actions with the second towel.

"Cold." Frank tried to grin. He wriggled a bit, settling himself a little more comfortably against the pillows Bella had stacked behind his head, and his eyelids drooped. "I'm really tired…" he murmured.

"Joe, come on out to the living room." Bella was taking charge again. "You can lie down on the couch and keep ice on your face. Tony's going to stay in here with Frank." She marched out without waiting to see if he complied.

"Bossy, isn't she?" Joe quipped, and obediently followed. But before he had gone more than two steps….

"Joe – wait!" Frank opened his eyes again. "Call Dad and tell him what happened. And stress that we're okay! But tell him we need complete backgrounds on Alexander Harrington. And Dominic Scarpetti…."

#####

Some time later, Joe awoke with a start. He blinked, trying to remember where he was; then the coldness along his jaw line recalled him to the evening's past events, and why he was lying on the couch. _Somebody hired those creeps to jump Frank!_

He shifted, and gingerly touched his swollen jaw; tentatively slid his tongue along the inside of his lower lip. _Ouch!_ Bella had suggested he hold an ice cube inside his mouth in an attempt to numb the cut areas, but it had melted quickly, and the relief was short-lived.

"Joe? Are you all right?"

Joe turned his head and beheld his cousin sitting across the room from him, a magazine lying in her lap. "I think so." He lifted his arm to squint at his wristwatch. "Wha' time's it?"

"Nearly midnight. You've been asleep quite a while. Can I get you anything? You can have more aspirin if you want it."

"Unh-unh. 'M fine for now. Maybe later." Joe let his thoughts range back to his telephone conversation with his father. Fenton had been concerned and worried at first, over the attack, then angry. He promised to get Frank the information on Alexander Harrington and Dominic Scarpetti as soon as he could the next day. Laura had wanted to come over to the apartment and take care of her sons, but realized that visiting Frank and Joe "Griffin" might cause some questions. Still, she was upset at the turn of events, and made Joe promise to call her in the morning with an update.

The most amazing thing about the call, though, was the news that Fenton had shared: Laura's encounter with Dominic Scarpetti at the house – followed by her visit to _Antonio_ Scarpetti!

"Tony still in with Frank?" Joe inquired now. If he was careful, it didn't hurt too much to talk.

"Yes." Bella smiled. "Joe – do you think Tony likes me?"

Joe grinned, then winced. Smiling hurt more than talking. "I think he likes you a lot, Tinkerbelle."

"I like him, too," she admitted.

"No regular boyfriend here in New York?" Joe asked. He wasn't sure which way he wanted Bella to answer. He didn't want to squash a blossoming romance, but… _Tinkerbelle and Tony?_

"Are you kidding?" She laughed ruefully. "I had an Italian father, remember? When my first date arrived to pick me up – I was only 15 then – Daddy had made sure that he was sitting in the living room and sharpening his knife collection! Paring knives, butcher knives, boning knives, carving knives…I think he even had a cleaver there!"

"Uh-oh!" Joe chuckled. "I don't envy your date!" He was glad Vanessa's father wasn't alive to do something like that – and Mr. Morton had always liked him….

"I was so mortified. I wanted to drop through the floor." She smiled wistfully. "But I wish now that Daddy was here to do that for every date I go on…." Tears brimmed in her eyes, but didn't quite fall.

"Want Frank or me to do it?" Joe quipped, trying to lighten the situation.

"No thanks." She laughed. "I'm glad you don't have a knife collection."

"Tony wouldn't be scared of either of us anyway," Joe admitted. He sobered. "Tinkerbelle, something's going on, you know. No matter how much you try to deny it, there's something shady at Marco's, or with someone associated with Marco's."

"I know, Joe." She nodded. "But no one has told me why! Why did I never know about you or your family? Why did Uncle Dom ask me to keep his visits a secret from my mother, after Daddy died?"

Joe wiggled his sore jaw, winced, and struggled to sit up. _I knew this was going to come up sometime…why me?_ "I just heard it myself, a few days ago. Let's see if I can remember all the details…."

#####

Frank Hardy lay half-dozing; unwilling to make the effort to move, not wanting to wake up badly enough to risk the pain. After a moment or two, he heard the rustle of movement, then voices speaking softly near him: Bella and Tony.

"How is he?" Bella whispered.

"He's been asleep all this time. Bella, it's nearly two a.m.; why don't you go sack out in my room? Joe doesn't need you sitting and watching him sleep!"

"We were talking; he's just gone back to sleep." Frank heard her yawn. "Are you sure? You'll try to sleep too, won't you? On Joe's bed?"

"Yes, but I'm going to stay awake for a little while yet; Frank's due for some more painkiller."

"Okay….Good night, Tony." Again Frank heard movement. Curiosity overcame lethargy, and he lifted his lashes just enough to see Bella step closer to Tony; close enough to tiptoe and brush his cheek with her lips. The elder Hardy smiled a little, and let his eyes drift closed again….

"Good night, _cara mia_ ," Tony breathed.

"You know a lot of pretty Italian phrases, don't you?" she chuckled, then. "I've never heard an American boy throw so much Italian around."

"I don't know all that many. I've been trying to remember every single one I ever knew."

When Bella had departed, Frank forced his eyes open once more. "Smooth moves, Prito," he murmured.

Tony whirled toward the bed, his cheeks flaming in the dim light from the bedside table lamp. "Frank!" He kept his voice low, but his shock was evident.

"Don't worry; I'm not objecting." Frank gave up the pretense of sleep and shifted, then winced.

"Take it easy," his friend cautioned him, his embarrassment forgotten. "I'll get you some more aspirin."

Frank wanted to stay awake, wanted to ask about Joe, wanted to think about his attackers and their motives, wanted to cogitate over the ramifications of their investigation…but a few minutes after swallowing the capsules Tony brought him, the elder Hardy boy slipped into welcome, painless sleep once more.

#####

Frank awoke first. He blinked at his watch, registering the time as 8:43, then lifted his head and looked around the room. Tony was sprawled on Joe's bed, breathing heavily, deep in slumber. Frank tried sitting up, and found it was do-able, if he took things slowly. _Bruises, that's all…I knew I was all right._ He pushed away the now-tepid plastic bags, carefully swung his feet to the floor, and got to his feet.

Walking down the short hallway, he glanced into the room Tony had been supposed to occupy, and saw Bella curled up on the bed, sound asleep. When he reached the living room, he found Joe stretched out on the couch. His eyes were closed, but at Frank's approach, he stirred and opened them.

"Mornin'," the younger boy murmured. "How're y'doin'?"

"Not too bad," Frank assured him. "What about you?"

Joe tentatively touched his jaw, which Frank could see had developed an ugly-looking bruise overnight. "I'm okay – but I want something soft for breakfast."

Frank eased himself into a chair. "Did you talk to Dad last night?"

"Uh-huh." Joe sat up. "He said he'll get the information on Harrington and Dominic Scarpetti as soon as possible." He hesitated. "Frank, I told Bella the whole story."

"You did?"

"She asked," Joe defended himself. "She wanted to know why she'd never heard of us! I just told her what Mom and Dad told us the other day!"

"Well, she had to know sometime, I suppose," Frank sighed. "Was she okay with it?"

"She was unhappy to hear that her dad's family is so notorious…and she's still convinced that Dominic is an okay guy. It'll take more than circumstantial evidence for her to believe anything bad about Uncle Dom."

"Well, we don't have any proof of anything against him yet," Frank admitted. "But I sure want to get back into those books today, and find out what it is I've been warned about finding!" He managed a weak laugh.

"You sure you're up to it?" Joe asked, worriedly.

"Nope – but I'm going to do it anyway," was his brother's reply. Frank got up slowly and went into the kitchen where the wall telephone hung. Glancing at the pad of paper on the counter, he dialed a number carefully. "Dad? It's Frank….yeah, I'm all right, just kind of sore. Have you found out anything yet on…you have?" Frank chuckled. "Sam Peterson came through for us again, hmmm? What did you find out?" He listened for a few moments, jotting notes on the pad as he did so. "Okay – thanks!" Another pause. "No, he didn't tell me anything….She what?"

Joe grinned and winced; he knew what information his father had just unloaded on his elder brother.

"That's absolutely…what possessed Mom to do something like that? Well, but still!….Yeah, I'm going down to start work in just a few minutes. I'll take my cell phone with me this time, so call that number if you find anything more out, will you? Give my love to Mom….bye."

The elder Hardy hung up the receiver and looked at his impatiently-waiting brother. "Did you know about Mom? About her going to see Antonio Scarpetti?"

"Uh-huh, Dad told me last night," Joe confirmed. "Pretty cool, huh?"

"Cool? More like dangerous!" Frank sputtered. But he had to smile. "Mom's got a lot of courage, facing up to that guy." He glanced at the scribbled notes. "Dad found out something very interesting about Alexander Harrington. He's evidently been working with Antonio Scarpetti for years. Nothing illegal, mind you – everything is always on the up-and-up – but Harrington's in his pocket. That loan Alex made to Marco and Linda, when the restaurant was remodeled – well, it looks like the money came from Antonio Scarpetti."

Joe's eyes widened. "He really is working for Scarpetti, then? That puts him in an awfully suspicious light, doesn't it?"

"Working with, not necessarily working for," Frank emphasized. "But I'm going to keep it in mind." He walked carefully toward the door. "I'm going to go down and start working on those files again. There's got to be something there."

Joe, although he wanted to comment on Frank's mussed appearance, nodded. "I'm going to go take a shower, and then try to find something I can manage to eat for breakfast." He was heading for the bathroom when he halted in surprise. "Bella! Good morning!"

"Hi, Joe." His cousin was standing in the doorway of the single bedroom, sleepily rubbing her eyes. "Are you feeling all right?" Without waiting for a reply, she stepped into the hallway. "Frank, wait a minute, don't leave without something to eat!"

Frank reluctantly turned back. "Okay, okay," he sighed. "But I want to make it fast."

"It will be," Bella reassured him, laughing softly. "The only things I can make decently are cold cereal and toast!"

Joe managed a chuckle as he stepped into the bedroom he was sharing with his brother. He quietly grabbed some fresh clothing from his suitcase, trying hard not to waken the sleeping Tony, and headed for the bathroom.

When Frank left the apartment, Bella sat down on the couch. Although she had said nothing to her cousins, she had overheard Frank's report to Joe on Alexander Harrington. Her mind was whirling with what she had heard. How could Alex be involved? Sure, he was interested in owning the restaurant, but would he resort to murder in order to get it? And what was this about him working for her grandfather Scarpetti? She couldn't fathom it – but then, she couldn't fathom anyone killing her mother, for any reason.

Her eyes drifted closed. It was still fairly early, and she hadn't gotten much sleep. _I'll catnap here on the couch while Joe's in the shower – then maybe he can give me a lift home, so I can change…._

No sooner than she had dozed off, however, then she was jerked awake by the sound of the door opening. Her eyes flew open. Had Frank returned for some forgotten item? Blearily, she blinked the sleep from her eyes. Her heart rate quickened, for she suddenly realized that it was not her cousin who had entered the apartment, but Alexander Harrington!

Bella screamed – for in Harrington's right hand was the .38 special he had purchased after Marco's death…and it was pointed directly at her!


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you so much, to the lovely, kind people who have been posting feedback on this story! You're the best!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 14

"Bella! Bella, what's the matter?" Tony Prito ran into the living room, his eyes frantically searching for the source of trouble. But the only person in the room was Bella herself, who was lying on the couch, eyes closed – screaming.

"Bella!" Tony bent over her, shook her gently. "Bella, wake up!"

Down the hall, a door was flung ajar, and Joe Hardy erupted from the bathroom, bath towel wrapped around his waist, his upper body still wet from his shower, and his hair dripping water. "What's wrong? What's happened?"

"She's having a bad dream – Bella, _cara mia_ , wake up!" Tony shook her again, and this time the blue eyes opened. She stared at him in fear for an instant, tears in her eyes.

"T-tony?" She relaxed a little, realizing who it was.

"It's all right, you just had a bad dream," Tony reassured her. Joe hovered over his shoulder, worry evident on his features. Tony flinched as water dripped on him.

"I thought – I dreamed Alex – was here, with a gun…pointing a gun at me!" Bella faltered. "It was so real…."

Joe moved quickly to check the door. "Locked," he reported. He slipped the safety chain on as a precaution. "It was a dream, Bella – just a nightmare, that's all." He hitched up his towel absent-mindedly as he moved about the apartment, still searching for any sign of an intruder. "You must have heard the door close when Frank left…."

Bella sat up, and Tony put a comforting arm about her shoulders. "It was so real…" she repeated. She meekly accepted the tissue he handed her from the box on the end table, and wiped the excess tears. Her chin was still quivering slightly as she tried to regain control over her emotions. "I'm sorry – I guess it was just a dream, but I – how can you guys do this all the time? I guess I'm just not cut out for the life of a detective."

Tony offered an encouraging grin. "It takes some getting used to. You sure you're all right?"

Bella nodded her head and smiled gamely. "Yes – but I think I'd like to go home now."

"I'll take you," Joe offered immediately.

Bella eyed him warily. "Uh – thanks, Joe…but don't you think you should get dressed first?"

Joe gulped – and his blush spread downward from the roots of his blonde hair.

###

Twenty minutes later, Tony was opening the door of the Aztek once again and Bella stepped out onto the walk in front of her home.

"I'll see you later – thank you for the ride, Tony." Daringly, Bella reached to kiss his cheek, and he caught her hand and pulled her into a quick hug, then released her, just as quickly.

"Goodbye, Bella."

She gave him a sparkling glance over one shoulder as she hurried into the house.

When she reached the kitchen, she found Laura Hardy sitting at the table and glancing through the newspaper. Her aunt looked up and smiled warmly.

"Bella, dear! Have you had breakfast? And how are the boys? Fenton talked to Frank before he left, but…."

"I haven't had breakfast, but I'm not really hungry," Bella replied. She sat down at the table. "Where's Mr. Har—Uncle Fenton?"

"He went to see your mother's lawyer, honey," Laura said gently. "He went to find out about her will – if there is one, I mean."

"I think there is," Bella said, "but she didn't use a lawyer much. She wasn't too fond of them, I think." She grinned a little shamefacedly at her aunt. "Maybe it was too much 'law' from your father?"

Laura was slightly taken aback. "I didn't think you knew—"

"Joe told me," Bella smiled. "Last night, when he should have been asleep…he woke up for a while."

"Is he feeling all right today?" Laura asked again, with a worried look on her face. "He sounded miserable last night when I spoke to him.

"He wasn't feeling too bad, I guess. But his mouth is awfully sore," the girl replied. "He said he'd make it to work, though."

"Would you like some tea, Bella?" Laura gestured towards her own steaming cup.

Bella glanced at the contents. "Umm, no thanks. That's that licorice stuff, isn't it? My mom used to drink it, but I can't stand the stuff – nor could Daddy. Help yourself to all you want!"

"I have been, thank you." Laura smiled reminiscently. "Linda and I used to drink licorice tea by the potful when we were growing up. We'd make a pot of tea and take it to one or the other of our rooms, and then talk over the day." She laughed. "But you're right, no one else liked it then, either."

"I'll just get some cocoa." Bella stood up and busied herself with a package of instant-cocoa mix and another mug. "Frank went to work," she commented over her shoulder. "He said he wanted to get back into the files; after what happened last night to him, he feels there's something there that he needs to find."

"I hope he's successful," Laura commented – and then realized how her words would sound to Bella. "Oh honey, I didn't mean it like that! I can't imagine either of your parents doing anything shady with the books!"

"I know what you meant." Bella smiled stiffly as she sat down across the table with her cup of cocoa. "But I don't want him to find anything…even though it means we'll have to look elsewhere for my mother's murderer."

The two sat for a minute or two, companionably sipping their beverages. Finally, Laura spoke again.

"Bella, your mother's funeral service is arranged for tomorrow, you know."

Bella nodded quickly. "Yes, that's fine." She said nothing more, and after waiting a few moments, Laura continued.

"Honey, I realize that everything is crazy right now, with the boys and Fenton trying to get to the bottom of who's responsible for your mother's death. It would be easy to get caught up in that, and ignore the feelings of loss you have. But eventually you are going to have to face them."

For a long moment, Bella sat there, her hand curved around her mug of cocoa, staring across the table at Laura with her green ceramic mug of tea. Then she abruptly turned away, but not before Laura saw two huge tears slip down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," the girl murmured. "It's just that – for a minute – you weren't you. You were Mom, sitting there drinking that tea that only she would touch, and you are saying almost the same things Mom said after the police came to tell us about Daddy…." She rose to her feet, nearly overturning her mug. "I'm sorry. I can't do this right now…it's too spooky. I'm going to go take a shower, or something." Turning, she nearly ran from the room.

Laura stared after her with troubled eyes. Then she leaned back in her chair and pressed her hand against her stomach, grimacing slightly. _I must have picked up a flu bug somewhere or other…._

#####

Frank eased himself carefully into the desk chair and leaned down to turn on the computer, wincing at the twinges in his ribs. He was determined to find whatever it was that had caused him to _receive_ those rib injuries the night before. _It stands to reason,_ ran his thoughts, _that if someone beat me up to keep me away from here, then there's something that I might find! Otherwise, why bother?_ He tapped his fingers, waiting for the computer to finish booting up.

Once the machine was purring and awaiting his instructions, Frank stopped and thought for a moment. _Where's the best place to start? Financial records? Personnel?_ He clicked for "Files" and scanned the display.

After a fruitless half-hour of perusing personnel records that were simple and boring in the extreme, he switched to financial records. These weren't simple, but they were boring, just the same. Marco's had made money, and that money seemed to be all accounted for; most of the profits had been reinvested into the restaurant.

 _There has to be something here!_ Frank brought up the file list once again. Out of the mass of names, one that didn't fit the mold caught his eye. **THE FILE** , in bold typeface. _Wonder what that is?_ With a mental shrug, he double-clicked.

A file opened, but before Frank could read any of it to discover what it contained, a second message popped into view. "File Restricted. Enter Password." it read.

 _Password? Where did_ _this_ _come from?_ His heart suddenly beat harder in his chest. Was this what he had been looking for? Gone were the aches and pains from last night's beating; Frank Hardy had a challenge facing him.

 _A password…okay, let's try names first…._ Frank typed and entered, in rapid succession, every name he could think of that Linda might possibly have used as a password. He was glad he had some new ones to try – but it made no difference. **Access Denied, Invalid Password** popped up, again and again and again.

 _Dates?_ This was more difficult. Frank knew his mother's birth date, which of course was Linda's also. But he didn't know Bella's, or Marco's, or Linda's parents', or an anniversary date. He surmised that Marco and Linda had married in either January or February, and tried every combination he could think of for dates in those months…all to no avail. _Trick passwords?_ No success.

Finally, he knew he was licked. But he had an ace up his sleeve – or rather, in his jacket pocket. Frank drew out his cell phone and consulted his number log. Finding the one he desired, he hit 'Call', and waited….

"Phil? It's Frank! Hey, how're you doing? Keeping busy? Yeah, I'm in New York for a couple of days…." After a few minutes' conversation and catching-up time, Frank got to the purpose of his call, and explained his dilemma. Phil Cohen, the most computer-savvy person Frank knew, listened carefully, as Frank told him all the different combinations of names and dates he had tried, and which had proved to be completely useless.

" _Have you tried the obvious ones?"_ Phil asked. _"Things like 'Password'? Or "LetMeIn?'"_ He thought a moment more. _"Or how about 'OpenSesame'? Or that one from The Hobbit – 'say Friend and enter'?"_

Frank typed rapidly, holding his cell phone precariously cradled between his shoulder and his ear. "Nope," he said at last. "Nothing worked."

 _"Okay, let me send you a decoding program you can try,"_ Phil suggested. _"You can get your email there, can't you?"_

Frank affirmed that he could, and a few moments later, Phil reported that the program was on its way through cyberspace. They chatted a few more minutes, then Frank, still managing to multi-task, reported that the program had arrived in his inbox.

 _"Okay, install it and run it,"_ Phil instructed. _"And see if it helps. If it doesn't, Frank…well, I'm about out of suggestions!"_

"I'll try it, Phil, and give you a call back," Frank promised, "and let you know what happens." He shut off his phone, and set to work, fingers tapping across the keys.

Fifteen minutes later, Frank sat staring at the words on the screen in front of him. Silently he read them, over and over.

" _In the event of my death…a message to Laura. There is a safety deposit box to be opened, at the West 72_ _nd_ _Street branch of Citibank of New York. The KEY to get in lies in the LUXURY of my past, and the tranquil blue waters around it."_

Frank took a long breath. _Bingo!_

#####

Frank looked at his watch, and was amazed to discover it was past noon. He had spent over two hours messing with those files. _But it was worth the time! I've found something important!_ He stood up cautiously and stretched his shoulders, wincing as the movements made his ribcage throb. He wondered if it would be possible to get some lunch quickly, before going over to Bella's house to consult with Laura.

Just as Frank was about to open the office door, there was a light tap on it, and to his surprise, his cousin Bella popped her head into the room.

"Bella? What are you doing here?"

"I just came back over to see how you and Joe were feeling," she replied. She gave him a searching glance. "You look flushed – are you all right?"

"I'm fine – I've found something!" Frank told her exuberantly. "But I need to show it to Mom and Dad." He showed her the sheet of paper where he had copied down the strange message, and explained about the encrypted file.

"The key to get in…" she pondered. "That would be the key to the safe deposit box, of course. I wonder where it could possibly be? Luxury? Something luxurious? I have no idea!" Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement as she looked up at her tall cousin.

"Let's hope Mom does." Frank guided Bella toward the door. "I wonder if Joe would let me borrow his car…I want to get over and talk to Mom right away about this."

"You don't have to try and coax the car away from Joe," Bella told him. "I brought my Dad's car over. We can go back in that. You need me along anyway; you haven't been there yet!"

Frank forbore to mention that he had driven extensively in New York City, and could very likely find the Scarpetti home without difficulty. "Okay, let me just tell Joe where we're going. He'll probably fuss about not going along, but he needs to rest; he's got to work tonight."

"I'll ask Rick to stick a couple of sandwiches in a bag," Bella said, turning towards the kitchen. "We can take them with us and eat on the way."

Frank was right; Joe fussed about not being allowed to come along with his brother and cousin, but Frank reminded him that he needed to be on duty at five, and the more rest he could manage to get, the better.

"You stay put," Frank told him. "You've got to look sharp tonight, remember? Tuxedo and all? You don't want to spoil the looks of it with a swelled-up jaw, do you?"

Joe, who had spent most of the morning stretched on the couch with ice on his chin, grimaced. "I'd like to spoil the looks of it," he mumbled. Frank just grinned, waved at Tony, and departed.

"Oh nuts!" Joe sat up suddenly, as his brother clattered down the stairs. "I meant to tell Frank about Bella dreaming that Alex came after her with a gun! It might not mean anything…but then again, it might!"

"Tell him when he comes back," Tony advised. He craned his neck to see Joe's face. "You're not swollen any more, but you're gonna have a heck of a nasty bruise there. How's the inside feel?"

"Like I've been chewing razor blades," Joe admitted. He settled back on the couch and readjusted the ice pack.

###

When Frank and Bella reached Bella's home, they hurried inside, anxious to share their momentous news with Laura and possibly Fenton, had he returned. Somewhat to their surprise, they found Laura lying on the couch. She looked pale, but sat up and smiled when they entered the room.

"Frank, how are you feeling now?" Laura asked, a worried look settling over her pretty features.

"I'm okay, Mom," Frank said impatiently. "Look, I found something in a file on the restaurant computer system – and it's a message to you."

"To me?" Mrs. Hardy stared at him in surprise. "What on earth…?"

"It's about a safety deposit box in a bank, Mom – look!" Excitedly, Frank thrust the paper at his mother. Laura took it and read it. She frowned, and read it again.

"The luxury…and the tranquil blue waters around it…" she mused. "What a strange thing to say! Why would Linda leave a message to me like this?"

"It's like a riddle," Frank said. "If you can solve the riddle, you can find the key to the safe deposit box – and apparently there's something in that box that she wanted you to find."

Laura still looked puzzled. " 'The key lies in the luxury of my past…' Our past wasn't all that luxurious. I wouldn't have put it much beyond 'comfortably well off.'" She frowned, as a sudden thought struck her. " 'Luxury'…wait a moment. The _Luxury_ was the sailboat that we owned!" She suddenly looked very sad. "The sailboat that our parents were on when they died."

"Is it still around?" Frank demanded. Perhaps if it was, the key was hidden somewhere on it!

"No," was the disappointing reply. "The boat was destroyed in the accident that killed my mother and father."

Frank sat down and folded his arms across his chest, staring glumly at the floor. He had been so sure…!

"A sailboat?" Bella spoke up. "There's a picture of a sailboat in the study…maybe it's that one. Come and see." She led the way to the small paneled room which had apparently served as a home office for Linda Scarpetti. Frank and Laura followed. Hanging on the wall was a framed enlargement of a photograph – a beautifully fashioned blue sailboat, with white sails. Standing on the deck and squinting into the sunlight was a young woman with blonde hair, dressed in white shorts and a dark blue top. "It's a photo of Mom, right?"

Laura gazed at the picture and tears stood in her blue eyes. "No, Bella – your mother took that picture. That's me." The tears were threatening to spill over now.

"Don't cry, Aunt Laura!" Bella begged. She reached for the photograph and unhooked it from the wall. "Mom loved this picture – I just assumed it was of her, naturally. But now I know why she was so fond of it."

Frank extended his hands. "Could I see it?" he requested. Bella started to hand it to him, but suddenly something caught her attention.

"What's that on the back?" she cried, and flipped the rectangle over. Strips of clear mailing tape secured something to the photograph's backing – and that something was a key!

"Ooooh, look!" Bella squealed. Her slender fingers tore at the tape ineffectually. Frank reached out a cautioning hand, then felt in his pocket for his knife. Carefully, he cut the key loose, and examined it.

"Definitely a safe deposit box key," he noted. "Now we get to take it to the bank and find out what's in that box!" He started towards the door. "Come on, Bella, come on, Mom!"

Bella followed him immediately, but Laura didn't move. Frank paused by the front door, and turned back.

"Mom, aren't you coming?

"I'm sorry, Frank – I don't think I feel up to it just now," his mother answered. She had gone very pale again. "I've been feeling sick to my stomach this morning, off and on….I think I'd better lie down for a little while. Perhaps we can go to the bank a little later." Laura walked to the study door, and turned towards the bedrooms, but before she got there, she suddenly put a hand over her mouth and dashed into the bathroom instead.

The teens watched her departure; both looked very worried. "I wonder what caused that?" Frank commented. "Nerves? I mean, I know Mom's been upset, but—"

"It's odd…." Bella said thoughtfully. "it's really funny – not ha-ha funny. Mom did it too. That's the way she was acting, the last few weeks. She was sick to her stomach a lot. I thought it was because she was so upset about Daddy…."

"Your mom – acted the same way?" Frank struck his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Bella!" he nearly shouted. "We've had it wrong! Your mother wasn't being poisoned at the restaurant; she was being poisoned here! And now my mom is too!"


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to all those who have so kindly left comments and reviews.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 15

Bella stared at her cousin with wide blue eyes. "But how could she be? I've been here, your father's been here – I mean, I ate at the restaurant last night, but I was here before, and I feel fine…Uncle Fenton's fine—"

"I don't know how, yet, but I know that it's happening," Frank said grimly. "We need to get Mom to the hospital – oh, why isn't Dad here?" he added, frantic with worry.

Laura emerged from the bathroom, her face pale. Bella and Frank both hurried to her side.

"Aunt Laura!" Bella seized Laura's hand tightly. "Frank thinks you may have eaten something with poison in it—"

"Mom, we've got to get you to a hospital!" Frank broke in. "Linda wasn't poisoned at the restaurant, it's something here at the house!"

"But that's ridiculous," Laura protested weakly. "Your father has been here; we've eaten the same things…."

"Please, Mom – let us take you, just to get it checked out!"

Whether or not Frank's and Bella's pleas would have been successful is unknown – for at that moment, the front door swung open to admit Fenton's tall form. His son and his niece descended upon him, both talking at once, trying to explain the situation and emphasizing the need for haste in getting Laura medical attention.

"They're right, honey." Fenton wrapped his arms protectively about his wife. "I'm not risking you by waiting in a situation like this. Bella, what's the nearest hospital to here?"

"Lenox Hill," she said. "I can show you easier than give you directions." She suddenly turned and headed for the kitchen. "I – I have to clean up the cups…" she stammered. Somehow, she felt that things needed to be tidied up before they left – as if leaving a clean house would make a good impression on Fate; would insure Laura's recovery.

"But Bella, we don't have time—" Frank was beginning to call after her, when suddenly she came running back, clutching a green ceramic mug in her hands.

"Aunt Laura, how much of this did you drink?" she demanded.

Laura frowned. "I've had several cups today – and last night I drank quite a bit of it, after the boys called and told us about the fight they were in. I couldn't sleep, so I sat up and drank tea." She shut her eyes and grimaced as pain clenched her insides with a menacing fist, leaning against her husband.

"Frank – Mr. Hardy – my mom and Laura are the only ones who drank this licorice tea!" Bella cried, waving the cup under Frank's startled nose. "And Laura's had a lot of it…."

"Bring the cup along, " Fenton instructed her, "And grab the canister of tea, if you would. I think you've found your mother's murder weapon!" He turned to his son. "Frank, go and tell Joe what's happened. Bella and I will get your mother to the hospital right away, and you can join us there – or call me." He tapped his coat pocket, to indicate the presence of his cell phone.

"Bella, can I use your dad's car?" Frank had started out the front door before realizing his need of transportation. She hastily dug the car keys from her jeans pocket, and handed them over. Frank gave Laura a quick, hard hug, and dashed again for the door. A wave of hot July air wafted over the three left in the hallway as it opened and shut.

#####

Tony Prito and Joe Hardy walked down the stairs from their second-floor apartment. They had decided to eat a late lunch at Marco's before readying themselves for the evening's work schedule.

"I hope Enrico's made a lot of soup," Joe sighed. He spoke cautiously, enunciating his words carefully, trying not to move his injured jaw or cut lips more than necessary. "I'm so hungry, and I can't chew anything!"

"There'll be plenty of soup," Tony assured his friend, "and maybe Rick or Alphonse can make you some sort of soft sandwich."

They emerged into the brilliant sunshine, blinking as their eyes adjusted. Tony headed immediately toward the back restaurant door, but Joe turned towards the parking lot.

"I want to get my CD case out of the car," he explained to Tony, who swung about and followed him.

The two boys walked around the front of Marco's and into the small parking lot. Joe pulled his keys from his pocket and glancing up to make sure he was aiming in the right direction, pointed the fob toward his Aztek to unlock it. But that one glance froze him in his tracks.

"TONY!" It was a near-shriek of anguish. "My car!"

Joe dashed across the lot, with Tony right behind him. Upon reaching his destination, the boy skidded to a halt, his feet slipping in the sparkling, crystalline fragments covering the paved surface – fragments of what had been the front windshield of the Aztek. All the glass was shattered out, and wedged into the windshield wiper blade was a piece of paper bearing a scrawled message: _We told you to get out!_

"Oh, Joe – buddy, this is awful….oh man, Joe, I am so sorry!" Tony knew he was babbling, but he couldn't seem to stop talking, to stop trying to clear the anguish from Joe's face. "Joe, it'll be okay, it can be fixed – it won't take anything to put in a new windshield….Joe, say something!"

Joe stood immobile, staring at the little car which had been his pride and joy for the past three months. All the color had drained from his face, and the bruises he had received the night before stood out prominently. His blue eyes looked almost black against the pallor of his skin. Suddenly, his lips began to tremble. "My car…." he whispered, and dropped his head to his chest, fighting back tears.

"Joe, it can be fixed," Tony repeated. "It'll be as good as new, you'll see—"

He was interrupted by the sound of a vehicle entering the parking lot. Looking around, Tony saw Frank Hardy drive in, at the wheel of a red Mazda Miata. He waved his hand above his head, beckoning frantically for the elder Hardy to hurry and join them.

In just a few seconds, Frank was standing beside them, staring aghast at the damage which had been done.

"Take it easy, Joe." The elder brother wrapped a comforting arm about his sibling's shoulders and squeezed tightly. "It'll be okay. We can get the windshield replaced." He shook Joe gently. "I know you feel awful, little brother, but it will be all right." He didn't like the look of total desolation on Joe's face. He had seen it only a few times before – when Iola had been killed, and when Joe thought that Vanessa had died in a fire on a boat. "Joe, talk to me."

Slowly, Joe raised his head and gazed at his precious, violated car. Then he turned his eyes to meet his brother's. "Someone's going to pay," he gritted. He clenched his fists, and Frank felt him tremble within his encircling arm. "I will kill whoever did this!"

"No you won't," Frank told him, soothingly but firmly. "You are going to calm down and listen to me, is what you're going to do. Not to take anything away from the Aztek, little brother – but we have a more serious problem to deal with!"

Joe stared at his brother in disbelief. "What? What do you mean?"

"Dad and Bella just took Mom to the hospital," Frank reported tersely. "She's sick – she's started showing symptoms that Bella says are just like Linda's were."

"What?" Joe seized Frank's arm in frantic fingers. "Mom's been fed arsenic too?" The tears he had held back while surveying his car filled his blue eyes again, and threatened to spill down his cheeks. "Frank, she's not – she isn't going to—"

"I hope not; I pray not," Frank replied. "Hopefully Dad will get her there in time for treatment. I think he will, Joe – she was still conscious and able to walk and talk – she's just sick"

"Oh, God…." Joe dropped to a seat on the nearest car's back bumper and buried his face in his hands. Tony patted his shoulder consolingly. Suddenly the younger Hardy looked up. "You came to get me so we can go to the hospital, right?" he demanded.

"Yes, but I didn't anticipate this!" Frank indicated the glass-strewn parking lot. "You need to report this to the police and the insurance company right away."

"Joe, just make sure I've got all the information, and I'll do it!" Tony offered immediately. "You and Frank need to be with your mom."

Dazedly, Joe opened the door – he found that it was unlocked, and the alarm wires had been severed – and opened the glove compartment. He pulled out a thick packet of papers, which he handed to Tony.

"There – I think that's everything," he murmured. ""Here, take my cell, Tone – if you need me, call me on Frank's number." Numbly, he followed Frank to the Miata.

"I will," Tony called after them. "And I'll explain to Alex why you won't be at work tonight! Frank! – one of you! – call me and tell me as soon as you know how your mom is, okay?"

#####

Frank and Joe hurried off the elevator and raced toward the waiting room. Both boys drew up short when they saw Bella sobbing quietly in Fenton's arms. Frank's heart hammered in his throat; had something worse happened to their mother in the time it had taken for him to pick up Joe? Then he noticed the mutinous looks Joe was giving him. Frank raised an eyebrow as he waited for his brother to explain.

"I thought you said she would be okay," Joe hissed.

"I said I hoped she would. I thought she would be," Frank reminded his younger brother as they approached Fenton and their cousin. Fenton looked up; his relief at their arrival evident on his face. Then he saw their worry.

"Relax, the doctor is still examining her, but it looks like we got here in time."

Joe indicated Bella with a tilt of his head and mouthed _What's wrong?_ Fenton shrugged, helplessly. After almost twenty years of raising boys he felt incredibly inept when it came to handling the emotional outbursts of a teenage girl. Joe sat on her other side and took over the job of comforting her.

"What's wrong, Tinkerbelle?" He put his arm about her and drew her close.

Bella sniffled and rested her head on Joe's shoulder. "I'm sorry, I have no right to carry on like this. But I can't help but feel this is all my fault."

"Did you put the arsenic in her tea?" Joe asked gently. On the ride to the hospital, Frank had filled him in on how Linda, and now Laura had been poisoned.

Bella shook her head, miserably.

"Did you know it was in there?"

"No, but…"

"But nothing, then. It's not your fault. The only one to blame is the scumbag who put it there in the first place. And when we find him, we're going to make sure he pays."

Bella nodded, seemingly reassured. As Frank watched her, he was convinced there was something else bothering her. But before he could question her about it, a doctor in green scrubs approached them.

"Hardy family?"

Fenton stood and shook hands with the doctor, introducing himself and the three teens. "How's my wife?"

"She's very lucky. Fortunately, you recognized the symptoms and got her here before any permanent damage could occur. We managed to rid her system of any lingering traces of the arsenic and we've started her on a drug to counteract the actions. Unfortunately, dimorcaporal has to be administered intravenously over a period of several days for us to be sure she's completely well. So we'll be keeping her for a few days. She won't be running any marathons any time soon, but she should make a full recovery."

"Can we see her?" Joe asked, after hugging Bella and exchanging elated fist bumps with Frank.

The doctor nodded. "She's being settled in a room now. As soon as they finish, a nurse will be out to take you to her."

Bella looked at each of the Hardy men. Only now as the relief settled in, could she really tell how scared they had all been. But now another problem hit her. "If Aunt Laura is in the hospital, we'll have to postpone my mother's funeral."

Fenton nodded. "I'm sorry, but it would probably be best. I know Laura would want to be there. I'll call and make the arrangements if you like."

Bella shook her head. "No, I'll do it. You three should have some time alone with her once she's in her room. I'll join you after I call the funeral home."

Joe squeezed her arm. "You sure you're okay?"

Bella nodded. "I'm just glad Aunt Laura will be all right."

#####

Bella parked the Miata in front of her home and got out. She was very tired. It was nearly nine o'clock in the evening, and the day had been stressful, to say the least. She unlocked the door, walked inside, and carefully re-locked it behind her, then leaned her back against it.

 _Thank you, God!_ ran through her mind, for Laura Hardy wouldn't be joining her twin sister in death – not now. _If only I'd been more observant when Mom started getting sick,_ she berated herself. _She might still be alive now…._ Bella pushed herself wearily away from the support of the door, and walked toward the stairs.

She snapped off the hall light and made her way up the steps, nearly stumbling more than once. _Frank and Joe were so frightened…. They've gotten used to their father's life being in danger, or their own jeopardized…but not their mother's. And it was so awful, what happened to Joe's car…._

Bella prepared for bed, thinking about that situation. Who had hired the thugs that had attacked first Frank, then Joe's car? They evidently were watching Marco's, for otherwise how would they have known that the Hardys were still around and pursuing their investigations? The obvious choice was…Alexander Harrington. Bella shivered. She didn't want to think badly of Alex, but all the signs pointed in his direction. She remembered her dream, all too vividly.

She fell asleep, still pondering.

###

The sound of the telephone ringing awoke her, and she blinked her eyes open to brilliant summer sunshine streaming in through the windows of her room. Sleepily, she reached for the receiver.

"Hello?" she yawned deeply.

"Isabella, _cara mia_." For just an instant, Bella thought it was Tony, with his carefully-remembered Italian endearments – and then realized he would never call her Isabella. "This is your Uncle Dominic."

"Uncle Dom!" She smiled involuntarily. "Why are you calling?"

"I just received some surprising news, and I wanted to be sure you were all right. When I called the mortuary to find out when your mother's funeral service was to be held, they told me that it had been postponed. I hope nothing has happened to you…?"

"Not to me, Uncle Dom, no. But my Aunt Laura is in the hospital, very ill. She apparently ingested something poisonous – the same way my mother did."

"No! Bella, what a dreadful thing!" Dominic sounded shocked. "I am so sorry, my little one. You are there at the house by yourself?"

"Yes, I am." Bella smiled. "But that's all right, Uncle Dom; I'm a big girl, remember?"

"But you could be in danger, Isabella – what if you accidentally ate or drank something that had been poisoned, as apparently your aunt did?"

 _Not very likely, Uncle Dom! I wouldn't touch that licorice tea with a ten-foot pole!_

"I can always go over and stay in the apartment above the restaurant, Uncle Dom," Bella said aloud, patiently. "My friends Frank and Joe Griffin and Tony Prito are there; they wouldn't mind making room for me."

"Bella, Bella – that isn't proper at all!" Her uncle sounded shocked. "A young lady like you staying in an apartment with three young men? _Scandaloso_!"

Bella giggled. She knew she couldn't explain that Frank and Joe were actually her cousins – and there _was_ still Tony to consider! "Oh, I'll be fine—"

"No, _cara_. I will be there shortly, and – let me see – ah, I have it! How would you like to visit your grandfather for a day or two?"

"My grandfather?" Bella caught her breath. She remembered the things Joe had told her, and the subtly-hinted-at things she had picked up from conversations. _My grandfather…Antonio Scarpetti, the underworld crime boss._

"He would be overjoyed to see you, Isabella." Dominic was rushing on with his plan, not giving her a chance to argue. "He has long wanted to meet you. I'll be there in fifteen minutes." The telephone was hung up with a _click_ , and Bella lay in bed, staring at the ceiling in shock. Suddenly, she looked at the clock, and gave a little shriek.

"Fifteen minutes!" She sprang from the bed and dashed in the direction of the bathroom.

###

She only made Dominic wait five minutes, and he was very patient. But when she reached for the telephone to call Fenton at the hospital and tell him where she was going, the suave Italian stretched out a hand to forestall her.

"You can call him later, Bella, from your grandfather's house. That way you can explain to him where exactly you are."

"Oh…all right," Bella replied, a trifle doubtfully. What difference did it make if she called now or later? She picked up her packed overnight case and followed her Uncle Dominic out to his Lincoln Continental. As they drove away, the telephone began to ring inside the house.

"That's odd." Joe commented, depressing the button on the telephone to disconnect. "Bella's not answering the telephone. Well, maybe she's in the shower, or something."

"Try again a little later," his brother advised. "Are you going to go back over to the hospital and see Mom this morning? I'm picking Dad up in a little bit, since he stayed overnight there to be with Mom."

"Yeah, Tony wants to go too," Joe replied. "I guess we'll have to take a cab, though. The windshield guy the insurance company recommended said he won't be done for another hour or so. And you and Dad are going to go to the bank and see about finding the safe-deposit box, right?"

"Uh-huh." Frank finished tying his shoelaces and stood up. "You sound better when you talk, today. Your mouth feeling better?" He grinned at Joe's nod. "That's good. Well, I'll keep my phone on." He picked up the keys to his father's car, and left the apartment.

#####

Bella's eyes widened in awe as her uncle led her up the steps of her grandfather's magnificent home. She had never imagined something on this scale – was _this_ where her Daddy had grown up? She tried to imagine Marco as a young man coming into and going out of the house – but somehow, it didn't fit. No, Marco wouldn't have fit in, here.

"Come inside, Isabella." Dom was ushering her in. "Your grandfather will be so pleased to see you."

They walked through the spacious hallways, and ended up in Antonio's beautiful study. Bella stared at the tall, handsome man who rose to his feet and smiled at her as she entered. _This is my grandfather – this is Daddy's father!_ A sudden sob nearly choked her. _If Daddy had lived, he might have looked like him, someday…._

"Isabella!" The silver-haired old man walked forward, holding out both hands to her. "My precious child, I am so happy to see you at last! I am your Grandfather Antonio." He took her hands and bent to kiss her cheek. "Welcome to my home."

"Thank you," Bella said softly. She was charmed by the elderly gentleman's manners. "Your home is so lovely."

"My dear little one, I would like you to consider it your home, if you wish – now that both your parents are gone." Antonio paused, noting Bella's shocked reaction to that remark. He decided to slow things down a little, and changed the subject with dexterity. "There is someone that I would like you to meet," Antonio was already steering her toward the hallway again. "Your grandmother Rosalie is most anxious to see you. She is upstairs – her health is not the best, you understand; it is easier for us to go to her than for her to come downstairs…." His voice faded into the distance.

Left in the study alone, Dominic Scarpetti walked over to the cut-glass decanters on the sideboard, and despite the earliness of the hour, poured himself a stiff drink.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for the comments.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 16

A few minutes later, Antonio Scarpetti re-entered his study. Upon observing his son's activity, he scowled darkly.

"Is that really necessary, Dom?"

Dominic whirled around, a matching scowl creasing his features. "You stupid old man! You can't just come out and tell her you want her to live with you, like that! 'Consider this your home…'" he mocked. "Didn't you see how she backed off?" He took a gulp of his drink, his mouth twisting.

"I saw," his father replied grimly. "And I do not need you, Dominic, to tell me how to talk to my own granddaughter." He cocked his head to one side, consideringly. "She looks like her mother – not a scrap of Marco in her appearance. But her personality seems to be very sweet…like her father's. I would very much like her to live here, Dominic."

"Pah!" the younger Scarpetti snorted eloquently. "I don't care where she lives, but if you want her here, you'll have to go slow."

"And I tell you again, do not tell me how to talk to Bella!" Antonio's voice was very quiet, but there was a note in it which silenced his son abruptly. Dom stalked across the room to stand gazing out of a window, downing his bourbon in small, tidy mouthfuls.

Quick, light steps announced the arrival of Bella herself. She entered the dark-paneled room like the embodiment of summer sunshine, like the "Tinkerbelle" her mother had named her. Antonio smiled in welcome. Dominic didn't even turn around. Bella glanced at him in some surprise; her Uncle Dom had always been so nice to her, before.

"Would you like to walk around outside, Isabella, and see the grounds before it gets too warm? I would be delighted to show you the gardens."

"Thank you, Grandfather Antonio – I would like that very much!" Bella found herself responding in kind, to her grandfather's courtly phrases. She followed him down the long hallway to a set of double French doors which opened onto a brick patio surrounded by green lawns and flowerbeds.

As they strolled about the garden, Antonio described the different sorts of flowering shrubs and trees growing there, and cut roses to fill Bella's hands to overflowing. She laughed delightedly, burying her nose in the sweet fragrance.

"These are so beautiful, Grandpa Antonio!" Already the name had been shortened, Antonio noted with approval. "I love roses!" Then a sad look filled the wide blue eyes. "My mother loved them too."

"I am so sorry about your mother's death, Isabella _bambina,_ " Antonio said kindly. "But you are not alone, you know."

"I know." Bella hesitated. She didn't want to upset her grandfather, but it had to be said. "I have my aunt and uncle – my mother's sister and her husband and family."

Antonio frowned in irritation. "You also have me, Isabella, and your Grandmother Rosalie, and your uncle Dominic," he reminded her. "And I meant what I said, about you considering this place to be your home now. I would like you to come and live with me. I realize you need to think about it, of course – but I have your best interests at heart."

Bella's eyes widened. "Live with you? Here? I never thought of something like that!"

"Why not?" Her grandfather smiled. "I can give you anything you want or need, _cara mia_." He made an expansive gesture encompassing the beautiful gardens. "You say you love the beauty here… How would you like to spend a year in Rome, perhaps? Go to school there?"

"School – in Rome?" Bella's eyes were now the size of saucers.

"Why not? All this can be yours." He gestured again. "I can give you anything your heart desires."

Bella turned away from him. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and when she answered, her voice sounded much older than her seventeen years.

"I only want one thing, Grandfather – and you can't give it to me."

"Don't be ridiculous, child. There's nothing I can't buy you or give you, to make you happy!"

"All I want is for Dad and Mom to still be alive," Bella said somberly. "I want us three to be happy again, like we were before. And all the money in the world can't give me that." She buried her face in the flowers once more.

#####

"Joe, I really think we should drive by Bella's house and check on her; I'm worried about her!" Tony Prito implored his friend as they walked down the sidewalk late that morning. They had just completed a visit to Laura Hardy, who although still pale and shaky in the extreme, was responding well to treatment, and who had weakly commanded them to quit wasting their time hanging around hospital rooms.

Joe cast a mischievous glance at Tony. "Any excuse, huh, Prito?" Joe was beginning to recover somewhat from the assault on his car; he had been assured that the windshield would be repaired "immediately, if not sooner," and Andy from Marco's was supervising the task while Joe visited his mother.

"Joe, please? I tried to call her three times this morning, and I didn't get any answer. She's not at the restaurant, she's not answering the phone at home…."

"Okay, okay," Joe capitulated. He glanced around. "Where's a taxi when you need one?"

###

When they arrived at Marco and Linda Scarpetti's home, both boys were relieved to see the Miata parked in front.

"See, she's here," Joe said. But a niggling thought permeated his mind. _What if the tea wasn't the only thing that had arsenic in it?_ He ran up the steps and pressed the doorbell, then knocked sharply. There was no answer. He tried again, with the same result.

"If she's here, why doesn't she answer the door?" Tony was beginning to sound panicked now. "Joe, something's wrong, I just know it!"

Joe was no longer teasing. He felt in his pants pocket for a small item he rarely left home without…his lock-pick set. In a few minutes, the front door was unlocked, and the two boys hurried inside.

"Bella? Tinkerbelle?" Joe went up the stairs, calling his cousin's name, while Tony headed for the back of the house. In less than a minute, they were both in the front hall again, dark eyes and blue ones meeting in shared concern.

"She's not here," Tony said despairingly. "Joe, where could she be?"

"I don't know, I don't know…I'm worried too, Tony, but we'll find her." Joe glanced around and spotted a key ring on the hall table. "There's the keys to the Miata!" he cried, snatching them up. "I think it's about time we sat down and had a long, detailed discussion with Alexander Harrington. Let's get back to Marco's and nail that guy!"

When Joe and Tony pulled into the parking lot of Marco's, they saw the windshield people just packing up their gear, under Andy's close scrutiny. The young man grinned and waved them over.

"It's as good as new!" he exulted.

Joe examined the new windshield with care, and smiled. It looked – just as Andy had said – as good as new. He thanked the glass installer profusely, signed off the work order, and watched him depart, meanwhile giving his baby Aztek surreptitious, comforting pats. _There, it's all better now – you're all better!_

Tony's ostentatiously-cleared throat and impatient jerk of the head called him back to immediate problems. There was a man to interrogate, and a missing cousin to find!

Joe doubted that Alex would have a moment to spare, for it was nearly lunchtime, and Marco's was a beehive of activity. But surprisingly, Harrington was in his office, going over some paperwork. He looked up and smiled pleasantly enough, when Joe tapped on the half-open door.

"Joe, Tony…what can I do for you? Joe, are you feeling all right now? Your jaw isn't too sore for you to work tonight, is it? And how is your mother feeling now? Tony said she was sick, and that's why you had to miss work last night."

"She's feeling better," Joe replied, "and my jaw's okay. But we need to talk, Mr. Harrington."

Alexander raised his eyebrows inquiringly as Tony deliberately closed the office door and stood with his back against it, arms folded. "This looks serious – what's up? If it's about your car being damaged, I'm shocked about the vandalism, but other than paying for the repairs, what would you like me to do about it?"

Joe explained, in as few words as possible – but it took some backtracking and details added in – about Linda's death, the mysterious telephone message referring to "him," and Laura Hardy's illness. When Alexander realized that Bella's aunt who was ill was also Joe's mother, a little of the confusion cleared up.

"You're really Joe Hardy, then – not Joe Griffin?" he clarified.

"That's right. And Frank is my brother. But there's something more, Harrington." Joe continued the explanation. When he concluded, Alexander Harrington's dark eyes were as worried as Joe's or Tony's.

"Bella is missing?" He frowned, his handsome face creased with concern. "That kid's gone missing twice in less than a week! How does she keep disappearing like this?"

"What we want to know," Tony growled, "is this: did you have something to do with her disappearance?

"We know you work for Antonio Scarpetti, Harrington," Joe cut in. "You can't deny it, so don't bother trying."

Harrington held up both hands in a gesture of denial. "Hold on, now! You fellows are barking up the wrong tree here! I'll admit, I have worked for or with Antonio Scarpetti in the past. And I bought into this restaurant at his request – to keep an eye on his son. When Marco died, I started thinking about what a great place this is, and the things that could make it even better, maybe. This would be a great restaurant to own, and Linda's death makes it simpler, I admit. I'd like to buy Bella out, sure. But I never, never would have killed someone to get it!"

"Then if you didn't poison Linda Scarpetti or my mother, who did?" Joe demanded. "And where is Bella?"

"Joe, I swear I had absolutely nothing to do with Linda's poisoning, or your mother's," Harrington vowed. He thought deeply for a moment. "If you're looking for someone capable of murder – look at Dominic Scarpetti. He's far more vicious than his old man ever thought of being. Antonio's a businessman, first and foremost. He might not care how those profits are made, but that's what he's all about. Dominic, on the other hand – Dominic is pond scum." Harrington's mouth twisted bitterly, adding emphasis to his words. "But Bella trusts him. He's made sure of that; he's wormed himself into her confidence."

Joe assessed this silently for a few moments. He had interrogated enough suspects to have a fair knowledge of when someone was lying or telling the truth. Either Alexander Harrington was one hell of an actor, or… Joe's gut told him to trust the restaurant manager.

"Okay, where would Dominic have taken Bella? And what will he do to her?"

"Dom wouldn't hurt Bella!" Alex looked shocked. "She's family, and blood's thicker than anything else. But as for where he might have taken her…I'd bet on Antonio's place."

"Where is it, and how do we get there?" Tony demanded, leaning across Harrington's desk.

Harrington hesitated. "I can tell you – but you shouldn't go there. Dom might not hurt Bella, but you, on the other hand, are a different story. You he wouldn't hesitate to hurt."

"She's my cousin, Alex," Joe insisted. "I have to find her. I have to make sure she's safe. Now please, how do we get there?"

#####

By the time lunch was ready, Dominic had managed to down two more glasses of bourbon, and his temper had deteriorated with each one. His plans were succeeding beyond his wildest dreams – why did he feel so insecure about them? He turned around as his father came into the study once more.

"Well, did you have a good time pottering around in the flowers?" Dominic snapped.

Antonio gave him a level glance beneath his silvery brows. "Bella is a delightful child, and yes, I enjoyed myself very much," he replied evenly. "Do you have a problem with that, my _figlio_?"

"No, Papá, I have no problem with it." Dominic slammed his glass onto the window sill.

"She mentioned that her aunt is sick – with arsenic poisoning," Antonio grated. "Just like her mother died from, isn't that right, Dom? You idiot, this is snowballing beyond belief! I didn't tell you to kill Marco's wife; what were you thinking of? You were supposed to get that ledger out of Linda's hands, and to establish a relationship with Bella! You weren't supposed to kill anyone!"

"You senile old man, can't you see that your ways just don't always work? Intimidation and suggestion are all very well, but sometimes it's better to take care of things yourself – so you know they are taken care of!" Dominic snarled.

"And now you've involved Fenton Hardy—"

"—he was already involved, Dad; his wife's Linda's twin sister, remember?"

"And that's another thing!" Antonio growled. "why didn't you get rid of that stuff before someone else had a chance to be harmed?"

" _Dio mio!_ " Dominic swore. "How was I supposed to do that? I couldn't go back to the house again and again! When I went, she was already there! How was I to know that Laura Hardy had a thing for licorice tea? I certainly never heard of anyone besides Linda drinking it!"

Bella Scarpetti stood as silent and still as a stone statue in the hallway outside her grandfather's study…listening to the words uttered inside the room.

#####

"Frank? We're on our way to Antonio Scarpetti's place." Joe craned his neck, attempting to see to the end of the line of motionless cars ahead of him. "Well, we're in the car, anyway. We're not currently moving anywhere. There's a monumental traffic jam here…." Joe grinned wryly. "At least I can't be ticketed for using a cell phone while driving! I'm basically parked here."

" _Why_ _on earth are you going there?"_ Frank's voice crackled through the phone. Joe heard him explain something to their father about Joe's and Tony's destination, and caught a muffled shout of dismay from Fenton.

"Because," Joe explained patiently, "Bella's missing, and Alex Harrington said that the likeliest place for her to be was at Antonio's; that Dominic might have taken her there. Tell me what you and Dad found at the bank, huh?"

" _A ledger, with a note from Linda attached,"_ Frank replied. _"Apparently she found it in Marco's insurance papers, after he died. It seems to be a list of names and contacts dating back about 25 years; things that would implicate Antonio and Carlo and Dominic Scarpetti – and some other relatives we aren't as familiar with! The note says: 'Marco wrote about this ledger, saying that his mother gave it to him when he left home to marry me. She told him that as long as he had it in his possession, he wouldn't have to worry about Antonio bothering him, that Antonio knew Marco wouldn't endanger the family as long as no one hurt HIS.'"_

"Whew!" Joe whistled softly, and relayed the news to Tony. "How did you manage to get into the box? Don't they have to have signatures, or something?"

" _Dad brought a note from Mom,"_ Frank explained _. "She signed an explanatory note and they had it notarized right there in the hospital. And a call to one of the bank's vice-presidents didn't hurt anything, either. Apparently Linda and Marco were close friends of this Mr. Edwards, and he couldn't bend over backwards fast enough, when he heard it had something to do with apprehending Linda's killer."_

"Are you on your way to Antonio's now, too?"

" _Well, we might be, if we knew where it was!"_ Frank exclaimed, laughing a little. _"We_ _were_ _heading for the restaurant, until you called."_

"Here's the address—" Joe gave his brother the information. "You may get there quicker than we do!" he added, again attempting to see around the traffic jam.

" _Joe—"_ Frank was no longer laughing. _"Dad says for you to wait, and not go there alone. Wait for us to get there too. It's way too dangerous!"_

"I may not have a choice." Joe turned his head as Tony abruptly snapped his fingers and pointed, to draw his friend's attention to a break in the line of cars. "Gotta go, bro – see you in a few!" Joe snapped his phone shut, swung the steering wheel sharply, and stepped on the accelerator.

In Fenton's car, Frank stared helplessly at the suddenly-dead phone in his hand. "Dad, hit the gas. Joe's on his way to Scarpetti's."

###

 _He killed my mother…he killed my mother…Uncle Dominic killed my mother…._ Bella stood rooted in place in the hallway, thoughts whirling through her head. _The message on the answering machine – the 'he' she talked about…it was Dominic._ She shivered, feeling suddenly ice-cold, despite the warmth of the day. _I've got to get out of here! I can't let them see that I heard…but I have to get out…._

She glanced wildly about her. There was no one in the hallway with her at the moment, but she could hear Dominic and Antonio in the study, still talking, but more quietly now. The subject seemed to have changed; no longer were they discussing Linda, or Laura, or even Bella herself. She thought about taking refuge upstairs with her grandmother, but realized that if she did that, she would essentially be trapped, with no means of escape whatsoever.

As she hesitated, uncertain, she was startled beyond measure by the sudden sound of mellow door chimes. Someone had arrived at the Scarpetti mansion…someone who was in a hurry to gain admittance, evidently, for the doorbell was rung again, and then there came impatient knocking as well.

Automatically Bella started for the front door, but she was slower than Lorene, the housekeeper, who opened the door.

"Yes?" the woman's voice was cool and expressionless. Bella hurried down the thickly-carpeted corridor, hoping against hope.

"My name is Tony Prito," she heard one of the most welcome voices in the world say. "I am looking for Bella Scarpetti. Is she here, please?"

"Yes, she's here. But I'm not sure—" Lorene began, only to break off at the sound of Bella's rapid footsteps in the hall.

"Tony! Joe!" The girl rushed forward, hands outstretched. "I'm so glad to see you! Come in!" She seized Tony's hand and held it as a drowning person might have grasped a lifeline. "Thank you, they're friends of mine!" she informed the surprised housekeeper, who shrugged, nodded, and departed.

"Bella, what are you doing here?" Joe hissed. He looked around apprehensively.

"Visiting my grandparents," Bella said, raising her light voice so as to make it carry through the rooms. "I'm so glad you dropped in…come out in the back, and let me show you the garden, and the fish pond." She kept a tight grip on Tony's hand, and took Joe's arm with her free hand, steering both boys toward the glass French doors.

Once they were outside, she pulled them to a halt. "Oh, I've never been so happy to see anyone in my whole life!" she breathed.

"What's happened?" Joe demanded. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Over here." Bella pulled them further along the pathway, pausing beside the little pond with its golden-hued occupants. "See, aren't the koi beautiful?" she said clearly. "They like bread crumbs…." Abruptly, she lowered her voice. "Joe, I just – just a few minutes ago – I heard my Uncle Dominic admit that he's the one who put the arsenic in my mother's tea!" she whispered. "I was standing outside the room they were in, and I heard him and my grandfather talking about it!" Her lips quivered. "Grandfather was angry with him about it – but Dom didn't even care!"

"Oh, Tinkerbelle," Joe put his arms about her and hugged her tightly. Tony still kept possession of Bella's hand, and when Joe released her, the other boy took his turn with a comforting embrace.

"You've got to get out of here, Bella," he murmured. "It's not safe for you here."

"I know – but I'm not sure they'll let me leave!" she confided. "My grandfather said he'd like me to come live here!"

"No way!" Joe exclaimed. "Come on, let's go!" He took his cousin's arm and turned to lead her back the way they had come – only to halt at the sight of Dominic Scarpetti, who was standing just outside the French doors. Had he heard their low-voiced conversation?

"Uncle Dom—" Bella sounded only a trifle breathless, but her hand gripped Tony's so tightly that the bones ached. "I don't believe you've met my friend, Tony Prito…and my cousin, Joe Hardy."

Dominic's dark eyes narrowed ominously. "Joe Hardy? I was under the impression your name was Griffin."

"Well, it's Hardy," Joe answered shortly. "Excuse us; we were just leaving. Come, Bella."

"No, I don't believe you are leaving." Scarpetti's voice was silky-smooth and exceedingly polite. "I just can't bear to let a guest depart so soon. Do come inside, won't you?" He gestured with one hand toward the house…and in the other hand he held a shiny, stainless-steel .45 pistol.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to Cherylann and Max2013 for the reviews. You're so nice!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 17

"Uncle Dom! What are you doing?" Bella cried. Despite hearing her uncle's vicious earlier words, she couldn't quite believe that he would actually hold a gun on her or her friends…he _wouldn't_!

"You heard me, boys. Get inside the house." Dom gestured again, this time with the hand holding the gun.

Reluctantly, Joe and Tony stepped across the grass, Tony still clutching Bella's hand tightly in his. When they reached the doors, Dominic seized Joe's shoulder and shoved him roughly forward, into the house.

"Go in there," Scarpetti snarled, indicating his father's study. Joe, fists clenched in fury at the rough treatment, had no choice but to obey.

Antonio was seated once more behind his desk. He frowned as the four entered the room. "What is this, Dominic? Enough of this nonsense; stop frightening Isabella."

"This 'nonsense' as you so quaintly put it, happens to be Isabella's cousin – Joe Hardy. Fenton Hardy's brat. He and his pal came here to take her away with them. They don't want her to be with you, Father," Dominic sneered. He pushed the boys toward chairs at one side of the room. "Sit down. Both of you."

Joe exchanged a glance with Tony. _Stall!_ his expression said. _Dad and Frank are on their way…all we have to do is stall until they get here!_ With slow, deliberate movements, Joe walked towards the chairs, and Tony, reluctantly releasing Bella's hand, followed. They seated themselves quietly, although both boys' eyes were blazing with animosity.

"Uncle Dominic…" Bella spoke up now. "I heard something, a little while ago – perhaps I misunderstood. You were mentioning something about a tea…that my mother drank…."

Antonio bent his head and rested it on his hand. "Oh, Isabella…" he was heard to murmur. But Dominic didn't even flinch.

"I'm very sorry you overheard that, Bella," he said calmly. Bella noted that he didn't deny the deed; he was merely sorry that she had overheard.

"I have one question," she said then. "Did you arrange to have my father killed too?"

Antonio's head jerked up at that, and he stared at his son with incredulous disbelief…that slowly became malevolence.

"Isabella, how could you ask me a question like that? Your father was my brother, and I loved him dearly. I could never harm him…just like I could never harm you."

The girl stared at him. "Not harm me? Uh…Dom, you killed my mother, you tried to poison my aunt, and you've lied to me, again and again. How could I ever trust anything you tell me again? I trusted you, and I loved you. It would have been kinder if you had just killed me too, like you did my mother!" Her eyes were swimming with tears now, but no tears spilled. "You didn't want to make friends with me, you only wanted to get into my house so that you could kill my mother!" Her voice was starting to rise. She was beginning to feel stirrings of the same anger that had made her scream and beat on Joe's chest with her fists, a few days before. She wanted to scream and hurt Dominic, now.

"What are you going to do with us?" Joe asked then, trying to keep his absolute loathing out of his voice.

"Do with you? Hmmm, that is a pretty problem, isn't it?" Dominic pondered a moment, a smile twisting one corner of his mouth upwards. "I think perhaps you two boys are going to go for a nice drive, very soon…in that odd vehicle you drive." A slight expression of distaste crossed his features. "You managed to get it repaired very quickly, I see."

"You had the windshield smashed!" Joe half-started from his chair, his hands clenched into fists. "You dirty—"

"Not a single move!" Dominic snapped, and raised the .45 to point it directly at Joe's head. "I'm not likely to miss at this distance. Now sit down!"

"Grandfather!" Bella implored Antonio. "You aren't going to let him do this, are you?"

The old man cast her a warning glance…a very sad glance.

"Would you at least tell me why you did it?" Joe demanded. _Stall, gotta stall; Dad and Frank will be here soon!_ "Why kill Linda? And how?"

"It was the ledger," Antonio said then, heavily, before Dominic could reply. "A ledger that my wife gave Marco when he left. I wanted it back, that's all. Dominic was to see that it was returned to my possession."

"A ledger?" They all knew about it, of course, but Joe kept playing innocent, hoping to stall just a little longer, just a few more minutes…. "A ledger was worth killing Linda? She knew something was wrong. She knew you were involved, Dominic. She said so in her telephone message. How did she know?"

Dominic's lip curled scornfully. "She refused to die, for God's sake! The arsenic wasn't working fast enough, so I showed up at the house, and demanded that she turn over the ledger if she wanted to live. She realized then that she wasn't just sick. But she refused to give me the ledger. She said it would be a cold day in hell before she handed it over."

"Good for her!" Tony was heard to mutter…but very quietly.

"So I tried another tack," Dominic continued. "I told her that nothing could save her at that point…the question was, did she hand over the ledger to me then, or did she wait until she was testing the temperature of hell, and I went through Bella to get it? Once I threatened Bella, Linda caved in, and acted all scared. She insisted that she didn't want anything to happen to her daughter, and promised to get me the ledger." The bitter voice sharpened. "But instead, she went to your house…she died there…and I still didn't have the ledger!"

"No one was supposed to be killed!" Antonio snapped irritably. "But—"

"My mother was murdered because of a book?" Bella shrieked. In a swift move that surprised all the other occupants of the room, she flung herself towards her uncle. "You killed her because of a stupid BOOK?" Her hands clenched into fists.

"I hate you! I wish you'd never come into my life!" she ranted. She leaped at him, fists flailing. Joe recognized the move. The last time he'd seen it, he had been the recipient of her fresh grief. But it wasn't grief that was spurring her on this time; it was white-hot rage. Her eyes were almost flashing red.

Bella caught Dominic off guard, and nearly sent him toppling over the couch. Catching his balance, as she pummeled his chest, he batted her away much as a person might brush away an annoying fly. The move sent Bella stumbling backwards, and she landed on the floor, striking her elbow hard against Antonio's desk as she fell.

Tony leaped from his seat, incensed that Dominic should treat Bella this way. The man jerked his gun menacingly toward Tony. "Stay put, kid!" But Tony kept moving.

"Tony, no!" Bella screamed. "Stay back!" She struggled to her feet, hauling herself up by clinging to the desk.

Dominic whirled around to face her. Reflexively, his hand tightened on the grip of his gun. In his agitation, his finger slipped, and the weapon fired.

Bella's scream mixed with the sound of shattering glass, as a priceless Ming vase became the only victim of the rogue shot. Dominic used the moment's distraction to slam a fist into Tony's stomach. The boy doubled over and fell back into his chair, clutching his midsection. Joe leaned over to him, trying to ascertain whether Tony was badly injured or not.

Bella's eyes flashed with unbridled fury. "Is this how you do business, Uncle Dom? Poison unsuspecting women, and beat up on unarmed kids?" Slowly, she advanced on him, fists again clenched. "I can't believe you share the same blood as my father! You are a sick, twisted, despicable human being, and I hope you rot in jail forever!"

Bella should not have compared Dominic to his younger brother. Marco had been the golden child, as long as Dom could remember. Not even Marco's defection had changed that completely. Without a second thought, Dominic raised his left hand….

Bella was on the floor again. She lay still for a moment, tasting blood in her mouth from the effects of Dominic's backhand slap. Joe remembered Alex Harrington's comment about family, and how Dominic wouldn't hurt Bella. _Evidently Alex was wrong about Dom…_ he thought. _He doesn't seem to care whether he hurts a member of his family or not._ Joe wanted desperately to go to his cousin but he dared not move now.

"Enough!" Antonio shouted, rising to his feet. He rubbed his left arm slowly. "I will not tolerate this. Dom, stop, now! _Fermo_!"

Whether or not the younger Scarpetti would have obeyed his father was never to be known…for at that moment, the front door was flung open, and Fenton Hardy ran into the entry hall, closely followed by Frank. He dashed down the hallway towards the den.

"Scarpetti! Dominic Scarpetti!" Mr. Hardy shouted. Dominic whirled towards the study door, and fired a random shot through the opening. Fenton dodged back, and the bullet whined harmlessly past his head to bury itself with a thunk in the woodwork.

"Dominic, put down the gun!" Fenton bellowed. He dropped to a crouch, keeping behind the scant protection of the wall, and pulled his .357 from its shoulder holster. With his free hand, he motioned for Frank to stay back, out of the predictable line of fire.

Inside the study, Tony had dropped to the floor, and was rapidly crawling over to Bella. He gathered her into his arms, attempting to shelter her. Joe had also hit the deck, and was scooting as quickly as possible toward the cover of the sofa. Antonio had sunk back into his chair, holding his arm and staring aghast at his son's actions.

"Dominic?" Mr. Hardy yelled once more.

 _BANG! BANG!_ Two shots fired in quick succession were his only answer. Fenton ducked lower, as did Frank, and again the bullets missed their intended targets. A mirror splintered into a thousand shards of silver, and a new hole suddenly appeared in the wall across the hallway.

"He's firing randomly," Fenton hissed to Frank. "If we can keep him shooting and not hitting anything…." He aimed carefully, and fired a single shot through the study door. Almost at the same instant, the detective was rolling across the opening, changing his angle of fire, then he shot again before crouching against the opposite side of the doorway.

 _BANG! BANG!_ Scarpetti fired twice more. The bullets smacked into the wall where Fenton had been a few seconds before.

"How many bullets, do you think?" Frank whispered. "Six? Nine? Thirteen?"

Fenton Hardy hadn't been a detective all these years without learning when to gamble and when to bluff. Now it was time to gamble.

"Dominic! You've only got one left!" he shouted, hoping against hope that his instinct had held true. Scarpetti's gun had _sounded_ like the Glock 33, which carried only six rounds of ammunition. He had heard five shots go off….

"You aren't going to hit me, Scarpetti!" Fenton called. "You might as well give up!"

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Dominic's voice:

"Maybe I won't hit you…but I have other targets here. Like your son, for instance. I think I could watch him die with great enjoyment, Hardy! Just like I enjoyed watching Linda becoming sicker…and sicker. Day by day." The smooth voice gloated now. "Yes, indeed. Come and watch, Hardy…watch him die."

Fenton was on his feet and in the doorway in a bound. "Dominic—" He froze, the words dying on his lips, for Dominic Scarpetti was standing over Joe with his pistol pointed directly at the boy's head.

With dreadful deliberation, Scarpetti pulled the trigger.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 18

For the measure of a heartbeat or two, there was absolute stillness in the room. Fenton Hardy knew there was no way he could reach Joe in time to save him from the last bullet in the gun.

The soft _click_ of the pistol brought a sigh of relief from Fenton's lips. The gun was empty.

Joe felt his heart resume beating, and he gasped slightly, trying to catch his breath. In all the excitement, he had lost count of the shots fired. He had forgotten the bullet that Dom had accidentally fired when Bella rushed him earlier. Apparently, Dom had forgotten it as well. He heard a soft whimper from Bella, still cradled in Tony's arms on the floor.

"Give it up, Dom," Mr. Hardy said softly.

"No!" Desperate as a cornered animal, Scarpetti did the unexpected once again. With a swift, sidearm motion, he flung the empty pistol at Fenton, who instinctively ducked. Taking advantage of the investigator's momentary inattention, Dominic hurtled forward, shoved Mr. Hardy sideways, and darted out the study door and into the hallway, running with every ounce of speed he could muster.

"Boys! After him!" Fenton bellowed, catching himself with one hand on the wall and preparing to take off in pursuit. Frank, in the hallway, was already in motion; Joe was scrambling up from the floor.

"No, wait, please! Grandfather! Please! Someone help him!" Bella's cry rang through the room, halting the men in their tracks. "Grandfather! Grandpa Antonio!"

Antonio Scarpetti was lying back in his desk chair, his eyes closed and his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. He was clutching at his chest and left shoulder with his right hand, and his skin was turning gray.

"Ohmigod, heart attack!" Tony was the nearest, and was already leaning over the suffering man. Even as he did so, Antonio's breathing shortened and stopped. Bella gave a wordless wail.

With four quick strides, Mr. Hardy was beside them.

"Joe, Tony, Bella, start CPR and call 911! Frank, come with me – we're going after Dominic. He's not going to get away this time!" Fenton turned and ran from the room, with Frank scuttling after him.

"Let's get him on the floor…" Joe gently moved his cousin aside, and he and Tony lifted Antonio from his chair. "Tinkerbelle, call 911, fast." Joe tilted Scarpetti's head back, making sure there was an airway. "Tony, you okay with mouth-to-mouth? I can't do it…." He indicated his injured lips and jaw. "I'll do chest compressions."

"Right." Tony positioned himself and blew two quick breaths to inflate Antonio's lungs, then a longer, deeper breath. "Give me a count," he requested, pausing.

"One…two…three…four…five…breathe. One…two…three…four…five…breathe…One…two…" Joe rocked forward with each count, pushing down with the heel of his hand and considerable force. Above and behind them, Bella was talking rapidly into the telephone. In a few more seconds, she hung up.

"Ambulance is on the way," she reported. Joe glanced up; his cousin's voice had been steady enough, but tears were streaming down her face as she watched them working over her grandfather. Suddenly, she clapped a hand across her mouth. "I've got to tell my grandmother what's happened!" she gasped, and ran from the room as if pursued by demons.

Alone in the study, Tony and Joe kept on with the CPR procedure. Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes. Joe's voice was growing raspy from the constant chanting, and Tony was starting to feel lightheaded from hyperventilation. A subdued Bella returned, still crying.

"She's very upset," she reported. "Upset and frightened. I didn't tell her what happened with Dom, but she heard the shots…."

"…three…four…five…breathe….One…two…don't worry, Tinkerbelle! …Five…breathe….One…two…it'll be okay…four…five…br—" Joe's words were interrupted by a ragged cough, followed by a gasp, from Antonio. Joe hastily stopped the chest compressions and felt for a pulse. A relieved smile spread across his tired face. "He's back with us." He watched the old man struggle for each breath. "Come on, Mr. Scarpetti, you can do it!" he murmured encouragingly.

"I hear a siren." Tony sat back, trying to catch his breath. "Bella, _cara mia_ , don't cry! Your grandfather is going to be all right."

As the paramedics swarmed into the room and took charge of Antonio, Joe and Tony drew Bella aside, and the they stood watching as he was readied for transport to the hospital.

"You kids saved his life, with the CPR." The head medic stopped beside them to say. "Is he a relative?"

"My grandfather," Bella whispered. "But I just met him today! Is he…I mean, will he be…?" She broke off and gazed at the med-tech beseechingly.

"His vitals look pretty good, considering," the man informed her. "He's hanging on."

"Good." Bella sagged against Tony, who put a supporting arm about her.

"He's ready to go to the hospital now," the second paramedic informed them. "We're taking him to St. Vincent's."

"Thank you," Joe nodded his appreciation. "Someone will be along shortly. Oh – by the way….His name is…Antonio Scarpetti."

When the ambulance attendants had departed, the three teens stood staring blankly at each other in Antonio's study. _What now_? was the unspoken thought. How were things going with Fenton and Frank…and Dominic?

###

Frank Hardy clung tightly to the armrest on the Volvo's door as his father swung the car around yet another sharp corner. They had been extremely lucky, for although Dominic had had a large head start on them, he had been caught in traffic almost as soon as he had left the circular drive in front of the house. They had spotted his champagne-hued Lincoln swerving through the streets and settled into tailing him, attempting to get closer as rapidly as possible.

"Frank, call Sam Peterson at this number." Fenton recited the numbers, and Frank dialed as rapidly as he could. "When he answers, hold the phone so that I can talk to him….whoa, hang on!" Another corner was taken on what felt like two wheels.

Frank blinked and shook his head, listening to the cell phone ringing. He had never seen Fenton in "pursuit mode" before. He wished he could have seen his father as a police officer. If Fenton was this reckless _now_ , what had he been like _then_?

"Chief Peterson? It's Frank Hardy…hold on, my dad wants to talk to you." Frank leaned across the console and held the little phone close to his father's face.

"Sam? Yeah, we're after Dominic Scarpetti." In a few phrases, Fenton explained what had happened at Antonio's house. "It looks like he's heading toward New Jersey. Can you get me some backup? – some patrol cars to close in on him?"

Whatever Chief Peterson's answer was, it appeared to please Mr. Hardy, for he smiled grimly. "I'll stay on the line and give you info on where he is…yes, he's going toward New Jersey, all right!" Fenton stepped down on the accelerator, and managed to close within another car length of the speeding Lincoln.

On and on they went. Frank's left arm ached from holding the cell phone where Fenton could talk to the police; his eyes were straining in the midday July sunshine to keep Scarpetti's car in view; his sore ribs made him ache all over.

"Dad, he's getting on the expressway!" Frank loosened his grip to point, and Fenton glanced quickly in the rearview mirror before switching lanes with an abruptness that caused squealing brakes and honking horns from several other vehicles.

"Sam? We're on the expressway now….Yeah, I see them. Thanks for the backup." Mr. Hardy stepped hard on the gas pedal and Frank felt the Volvo's powerful engine respond to the challenge.

"Dad, where do you suppose he's going?" Frank involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, as Fenton swerved sharply to pass a slower-moving car.

"Someplace in New Jersey," his father grunted. "Other than that, who knows? But we'll catch him; Sam's notifying the State Patrols in two states—"

Frank squinted through the tinted glass of the windshield, trying to keep their quarry in constant view. He noticed first one, then another patrol car, then a third. They were joining the fast-moving traffic from highway entrances, pulling up from behind to pace the brown Volvo, causing the other cars to slow down, subtly clearing a pathway. Fenton pressed the accelerator further toward the floor, and Frank gulped, seeing the scenery fly past on either side.

"Dad, he's moving over!" Nervous tension tightened Frank's usually soft baritone to a near-tenor range. "I think he's going to take that exit!"

Another quick glance in the mirror, a swing of the steering wheel, and Mr. Hardy was in the exit lane too. He snapped the information into the cell phone, and Sam Peterson relayed it through the police band. There were only two or three cars between them and the Lincoln now, and there were several police cars flanking the Volvo. The State Police weren't running their lights or sirens, but their presence was unmistakable. If Dominic Scarpetti thought he was eluding capture, he was sadly mistaken.

"There he is!" Frank crowed. He released his hold on the armrest and pointed again. Scarpetti had turned right at the exit light, and was weaving through the lines of cars, cutting in and out. "Dad, he's getting away!"

"Not by a long shot!" Fenton gritted. He accelerated, nearly nudging the car ahead of him with his front bumper. The driver turned and glared, but pulled over, and Fenton shot past him with a nonchalant wave of his hand. Frank cringed inwardly, but riveted his eyes on the fleeing Lincoln. _Dad hadn't better ever say_ _anything_ _about the way Joe or I drive! Not after this!_

Mr. Hardy hastily repeated their location into the phone, then added: "Put the phone away, Frank, and hang on. Once we catch him – he doesn't have a gun…." _And we're going to catch him, oh yes…. Dominic, you murdered Linda, you nearly killed Laura, you were going to kill Joe…you aren't going to get away from me!_

Frank obeyed, bracing himself against the dashboard. Fenton was forced to slow down again, due to the traffic congestion, and Frank breathed a silent sigh of relief. He had never realized the risks of riding shotgun with his father!

The pale-colored Lincoln with Dominic Scarpetti at the wheel accelerated up to another light. Fenton and Frank, furious, were stopped by the line of cars exiting the highway, unable to get closer. Fenton glanced into his rearview mirror. Was it time to pull out all the stops and have the state troopers use lights and sirens to clear their passage? As the lights changed, Mr. Hardy stepped on the gas pedal once more.

Up ahead, a New Jersey state police car pulled into the intersection and stopped, preventing the Lincoln's passage. Another car, this one from the New York State Police, moved to situate itself on the left side of Scarpetti's vehicle. And the Hardys, with Fenton creating a lane for himself more than once, slid into position directly behind Dominic.

They thought they had him trapped. There was nowhere for him to go…but Dominic Scarpetti had been drinking all morning, knew he was being pursued…and was a desperate man.

With a sudden screech of tires, the Lincoln was wrenched violently to the right, up and over the curb. In a desperate bid for freedom, Dominic Scarpetti accelerated towards the open space of a service station's lot, toward the narrow opening between the gas pumps and the shiny silver cylinder of a tanker truck preparing to deliver fuel to the underground storage tanks.

Fenton jerked the wheel of the Volvo, preparing to follow Scarpetti's mad dash, but as he bumped over the curbing, he was halted by Frank's terrified cry:

"There isn't room! The Lincoln's too wide – no, don't try it – stop!" The last word was a frantic shriek….and it was _not_ addressed to Fenton Hardy.

As if it were a scene in a movie – something they could do nothing about, merely observe – the two men stared in horror as Dominic Scarpetti's car clipped one of the gas pumps, spun sideways, and smashed with terrifying force against the truck's fuel container. One second, or perhaps two – and then an incredible explosion filled the air, and a sheet of flame erupted, engulfing the Lincoln and turning it instantly into a gargantuan fireball!


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

So VERY appreciative of the nice comments people have posted! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 19

"I can't get through – his phone's busy or turned off; all I'm getting is voice mail!" Joe slammed down the receiver of the telephone on Antonio's desk in frustration. "What can have happened?"

"We need to go to the hospital," Bella said dully from her seat on the couch. Tony was slumped beside her, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. "We need to go there…and we need to be here, with my grandmother. And we need to find out what's happened with Frank and Uncle Fenton…and Dominic. I don't know what to do first."

"The housekeeper will be here with your grandmother, Tinkerbelle," Joe reminded her. "We can head over to the hospital now, if you want to. And I'll keep trying to get hold of Frank." He gave Tony a sharp look. "You okay, Prito?"

Tony opened one eye, then closed it again. "Yeah. Still catching my breath." He sighed deeply and sat up. "Frank knows you'll be trying to get through to him; keep trying."

#####

Frank and Fenton both shrank back from the incandescent flare, instinctively shielding their eyes from the blinding light. Incredible heat washed over them, and flames crackled….The police cars behind and to the sides of them were already activating their lights and sirens, and calling for emergency vehicles, for fire crews from every available source.

"The whole place could go up!" Frank choked. "If the storage tanks catch…!"

His father nodded silently, his narrowed gaze still riveted to the appalling spectacle in front of them. "I think if that was going to happen, it would have happened already," he said finally. "If there can be anything lucky about this, it seems to be that the tanks weren't opened yet, and the tanker was full. Gas fumes are more explosive than the gasoline itself."

Moving slowly, Fenton opened his door and got out of the Volvo; Frank was about to follow when he realized that his cell phone was ringing. Still gazing at the blazing inferno, the elder Hardy boy picked up the little instrument.

"Hello?"

" _Frank_ _! You're there! I've been going nuts!"_ Joe's voice hit Frank's eardrum like an aural attack _. "What's happened?"_

"It's…all over, Joe." Frank drew in a deep breath. "It's all over."

" _What? What's all over? What_ _happened_ _?"_

Frank gulped. He had despised Dominic Scarpetti, but he hadn't been prepared for this grisly ending of the man's life. He felt shaky, and a little sick as he watched his father and several police officers stand in a group, talking while fire crews worked frantically to smother the blaze. Sirens resounded through the air as more emergency vehicles pulled up.

" _Frank? You there? Tell me what happened!"_ Joe repeated again.

"We followed him into New Jersey," Frank said at last. "He tried to get away by driving through a service station….But there was this tanker truck there…he hit the truck, Joe, and the gas pump, and everything exploded—" He heard Joe's gasp, and suddenly realized the impact this story would have on his brother. "I'm sorry, Joe, I—"

" _Never mind,"_ his brother answered grimly. _"Are_ _you_ _all right? You and Dad?"_

"Yeah….I guess so," Frank responded, still watching the flames with haunted eyes. "How's Bella's grandfather?" he asked then.

" _Alive,"_ Joe replied. _"They took him to St. Vincent's Hospital. We're heading there right now – nearly there."_

"Okay, I'll tell Dad. We'll be there when we can, I guess."

" _I'll call you a little later, bro….you sure you're okay?"_ Joe's voice was very gentle now.

"I'm – I'll be all right," Frank assured him. "Thanks. Give my love to Bella. I'll talk to you in a little while, then." He closed his cell phone and slowly got out of the car.

Joe set his cell phone on the console beside him as he pulled into the hospital parking structure. Surreptitiously he glanced into the back seat where Bella sat huddled in misery. _How in the world am I going to tell her?_

Tony shot him a questioning look. He had known Joe too long for the younger Hardy to be able to fool him. Joe frowned, and shook his head. His expression was clear: _I'll tell you later!_

Bella roused herself as Joe pulled into a parking space. "What did Frank say?" she asked.

"Uh—" Joe fumbled for words. "The chase is over. Dad and Frank will be here as soon as they can."

"So Uncle Dom's been arrested?" Bella's voice was tentative. She still was having trouble believing that her own flesh and blood relative – her father's older brother – was responsible for her mother's death…despite the pain in her mouth where he had slapped her to the floor.

Sensing there was more to the story than Joe wished to tell at the moment, Tony pointed at the entrance to the ER. "Isn't that the ambulance crew that brought your grandfather in, _cara?_ Maybe they can tell you something more about his condition when they got here. Joe and I will be right there."

Distracted from her questions, Bella scrambled out of the Aztek and hurried over to the paramedics. Joe and Tony followed more slowly.

"So what is it?" Tony asked, as soon as the girl was out of earshot.

Joe repeated what Frank had told him. His voice shook – talking about cars blowing up and burning always made him feel queasy, now. Tony wrapped an arm about his friend's shoulders.

"We can't tell Bella yet," he said quietly. "Let's wait and see how Antonio is, first."

#####

"I've been in too many waiting rooms like this," Joe muttered softly, to no one in particular. He glanced around uneasily. Hospital emergency room waiting areas gave him the heebie-jeebies; as he had said, there had been far too many instances of sitting in them, waiting for news.

"I wish we'd hear something," Bella replied in a forlorn whisper. She was seated on a couch next to Tony, while Joe occupied a chair a few feet away. "Why doesn't someone come and tell us how my grandfather is?"

"Scarpetti?" a voice interrupted the conversation. The three teens looked up, and Bella jumped to her feet.

"Here!" she cried.

A thirtyish woman with brown hair pulled into a pony tail, dressed in a pale blue lab coat, was approaching. She smiled reassuringly at the anxious group.

"I'm Dr. Markham," she said. "Mr. Scarpetti is out of danger," she went on, and Bella heaved an enormous sigh of relief. "He's been moved to a room in the cardiac wing. You're relatives?"

"I'm his granddaughter," Bella replied. "His wife isn't well enough to be here just now." She glanced at the boys. "This is my cousin and a friend."

"Well, your grandfather is a very lucky man," Dr. Markham told her. "The myocardial infarction he suffered was mild. His EKG is almost back to normal. We won't know the extent of the damage until we can do a catheterization, but I have every reason to believe he'll make a full and complete recovery…. The paramedics said you performed CPR on him after the attack?" Joe and Tony nodded, and she smiled approvingly. "You definitely saved his life; you should be very proud of your actions today."

 _We saved his life…._ Joe thought morosely. _But what kind of a life? To know that his son killed his brother's wife, shot up his home, didn't care that his father suffered a heart attack…and died in a fiery explosion trying to escape? That's a lot to come back to…even for a crime lord as tough as Antonio._

"I'm so glad." Bella sighed again and sat back down. "I don't think I could have stood it if – if I'd lost – someone else."

"Is he conscious?" Tony asked, and Joe wondered if his thoughts had mirrored Joe's own.

"Off and on," the doctor replied. "He did regain consciousness briefly, but he's been sedated." She smiled. "Who might he be asking for, when he said 'Bella, _angioletta"_?

Tony's eyes twinkled. "Only one person here that resembles a cherub," he said, and winked at Bella, who blushed.

"Can I see him?" she asked timidly.

"For a few minutes," the physician nodded. "but I must caution you not to say anything that might upset him. Even though he appears to be unconscious or asleep, it's entirely possible that he will hear everything you say to him."

"I promise," Bella said earnestly. "I'll be back in a few minutes," she added to the boys, and followed Dr. Markham toward the elevator. Joe and Tony settled back down to wait.

A few minutes later, however, Tony glanced at his watch, checking the time – and suddenly froze. "My gosh! The restaurant!" he yelped. "Nobody called Alexander to tell him what happened!"

Joe began to chuckle; for some reason the situation struck him as funny. "It's a good thing Harrington's already gray," he noted. "because having us work for him the past couple of days would be enough to turn anyone's hair white!"

Tony extended his hand for Joe's cell phone. "I'll do it," he declared. "I'm getting real experienced at telling Alex the various reasons you and I can't come to work!"

Tony had just finished his conversation with the restaurant manager when Frank and Fenton strode into the waiting area. They looked remarkably similar just then…both tall, with dark hair and eyes – and similarly grim expressions. Frank, especially, looked pale and haggard. Ordinarily cool and self-possessed, Frank had had his nerves stretched to their limits today.

When he reached Joe's side, Mr. Hardy hugged his younger son tightly for a moment. There had been no time, at Antonio Scarpetti's, for the investigator to express his relief that Dominic's pistol had held no more bullets. But now he could let Joe know how he felt.

"Where's Bella?" Frank demanded.

"She's with her grandfather," Tony replied. He quickly related what Doctor Markham had told them. "She should be back in a little bit," he concluded.

"She's going to want to know what's happened with Dominic," Joe said sadly. "How can we tell her that her uncle is dead? First her dad, then her mother…Mom and Antonio nearly died…. And now her uncle. She's been through so much already….How can we tell her?"

"You just did," a voice said, and Joe jumped. Bella was approaching them slowly, her face ashen and her blue eyes expressionless. Whatever emotions the men thought she might have expressed upon hearing the news, they were doomed to disappointment. Her tone was flat, unreadable.

Frank reached out to touch her shoulder and pull her close. If she lashed out at him like she had against Joe upon hearing of her mother's death…well, his sore ribs would just have to stand it, that was all. But there was no such reaction from Bella. Instead, she merely shrugged out of his embrace.

"What? Are you expecting me to cry about him?" She gazed stonily from one anxious face to another. "That monster pretended to care about me, and then killed my mother. I'm glad he's dead."

Fenton's heart went out to his young niece. He couldn't blame her for a single word of what she'd said, but he knew that later on she would feel badly about it. She had too good a heart to wish that excruciating pain on anyone…even Dominic Scarpetti.

"He said he didn't kill my father," Bella continued flatly. "But I wonder. Now we'll never know."

#####

"Laura, how much more can she take? She lost her father and then her mother. She came close to losing you, and then her grandfather…right after she met both of you! She learns that an uncle she had come to trust wasn't just responsible for her mother's death, but actively caused it! And now she finds out that he's died, too. And with the exception of her father's death, it all happened in less than a week's time. Nobody should go through that kind of pain…but I don't know what to do to help her."

Fenton Hardy stretched his long legs out wearily and sighed. His wife looked at him with sympathy from her hospital bed. Laura was still pale, and she tired easily, but the doctors had assured her and Fenton both that she was making a routine recovery, and would be able to leave the hospital in another day or so.

Upon leaving St. Vincent's Hospital, Fenton had announced his intention of traveling across town to Lenox Hill and spending the evening with his wife. The boys and Bella had returned to the apartment above Marco's; Bella insisted that she didn't want to go home alone to her house just then, the only indication that she was feeling upset over the day's occurrences. And now Mr. Hardy was telling Laura everything that had happened…seeking comfort as well as dispensing information.

"Fenton, I've been thinking about Bella…a lot. Since Gertrude moved to Florida, her room has been empty. I think we should ask Bella if she would like to move in with us for a while. I realize she's almost an adult…but right now she needs family. She needs us."

"She may not want to come," Mr. Hardy cautioned. "Right now she's confused and bewildered…and after all, she hardly knows us at all."

"She may not want to come," Laura agreed. "But we can ask. And," she added, her blue eyes twinkling now, "Frank and Joe would love to have her move in with us….Trust me on this one, honey. I know how they'd feel about this."


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).

Note: This story was written around 2007, so technology is not as advanced as it is today. Also it was originally co-written with another person, to whom I give much credit for the plot and many of the original characters, and unending thanks.

Thank you to everyone who has been kind enough to comment on the story. Or kind enough to read it, even if you didn't comment. This is the final chapter.

 **DEATH ON THE FOURTH OF JULY**

By EvergreenDreamweaver and SparksJSH

Chapter 20

It was another hot, muggy July day in New York City. The crowd of soberly-dressed people streaming out of the funeral chapel looked uncomfortably warm, even though it wasn't yet noon.

Many more people had come than had been anticipated. Every person associated with Marco's Italian Restaurant, closed for the day – from Alexander Harrington the manager down to the lowliest busboy…Linda's and Marco's business friends and associates…Gary Edwards, the vice-president of their bank, and his wife. There were a surprising number of people there from Bayport. And in the very back of the chapel, an elderly man with chiseled features and silvery hair sat in a wheelchair, listening to the words of the memorial service with his head bowed and resting on his hand.

Isabella Scarpetti, dressed in a simple dark blue dress, emerged from the building now, flanked on one side by Joe, on the other by Tony Prito, who was holding her hand tightly. Behind them came Frank, escorting Laura with great tenderness; Megan Wright, and Vanessa Bender. They paused on the sidewalk so that Bella could speak to people for a few moments.

Inside the chapel, Fenton Hardy sat down beside Antonio Scarpetti's wheelchair. He nodded politely to the small, comfortably-plump, white-haired lady accompanying Antonio. This, he knew, was Rosalie, Antonio's wife and Bella's grandmother. Her health was somewhat fragile, but since her husband's heart attack, Rosalie had refused to be coddled, and had proved to be surprisingly resilient.

"Mr. Scarpetti, I wanted to speak to you for a moment before you left," Fenton began. "It's regarding the ledger that was found in Linda's safety deposit box…."

The old man glanced at his wife, and his dark eyes twinkled a little. She returned his look with a slightly defiant one of her own.

"Ah, that ledger. Rosalie, that ledger…you see what happens when you interfere with business dealings?" Then he gave the detective a shrewd look. "I know why my wife gave it to Marco. She was being a mother, attempting to ensure his happiness. I can understand that. As long as Marco was alive, I was content to let the ledger remain in his keeping. But after his death, I couldn't take any chances. I knew nothing about Linda, and I couldn't be sure she would protect the family the way Marco had. I had to get the ledger back…but her death was not something I desired."

"You had made sure that Marco was watched, though – years before that," Mr. Hardy said quietly. "Through Alex Harrington."

Antonio's lips twitched. "Alex was never able to find the ledger, though," he remarked dryly.

"Well, it's been turned over to the police now." Fenton winced at the sudden look of apprehension in the old man's dark eyes. Antonio was worried, plain and simple. "Mr. Scarpetti, the District Attorney has told me that although some of the information is still valuable, given the circumstances of your age, and your health…" He paused a moment, then continued. "Given those circumstances, and the fact that you have stated your willingness to testify that Dominic poisoned Linda…he's not intending to waste taxpayer money pursuing it. Provided, that is, that nothing else arises." There was a definite note of warning in Mr. Hardy's deep voice.

"I appreciate that, Mr. Hardy," Antonio answered coolly. "And I understand the…implications."

"One more thing…" Fenton went on, the warning note gone now. He spoke very gently indeed. "I want you to know that I had no intention – I didn't plan for that car pursuit to end the way it did. As much as I wanted to apprehend your son—"

Antonio held up a silencing hand. "I have no son."

#####

"I'm sorry, I really don't feel very hungry right now. Perhaps a little later." Bella offered a brittle smile. "Vanessa, here, take this, won't you?" She handed Vanessa a loaded plate and disappeared kitchenward once again to get another for someone else.

Laura gazed after her niece with anxiety. "I know how she feels, and I don't blame her," she commented to Vanessa and Frank, who happened to be standing near. "But she hasn't had anything to eat all day. She was perfectly composed at the funeral service, but the only things she's said since are 'thank you for coming to the service,' and 'no, thank you, I don't want anything.' I'm worried about her."

Bella returned from the kitchen, carrying two plates of food, which she proceeded to hand to Fenton and Megan. Laura heard her say quietly to her uncle:

"Excuse me for a bit, please. I'll be in my room for a while." She walked out of the room, heading for the staircase.

"Oh dear…." Laura fretted. She exchanged a worried look with her husband, who shrugged with a _What was I supposed to do?_ expression on his face.

"Mom, I'll take her a plate; maybe I can get her to eat," Frank offered. He quickly put a helping of fruit salad, a roll, and a couple of deviled eggs on a plate, grabbed a fork, and followed Bella upstairs.

"Bella? It's Frank – could I come in for a minute?" The elder Hardy boy tapped lightly on his cousin's bedroom door, but there was no response. "Bella?" He frowned, and tapped again. Listening intently, he caught the sound of muffled sobs. Very quietly, he eased the door open and entered the room.

Bella was lying face down on her bed, sobbing into a pillow. Sobbing with the heartbroken wails of an abandoned child; a desolate, lonely, bereft child who has suddenly realized that there is nothing and no one left….

"Bella—" Frank set down the plate and swiftly moved to the bed. He sat down and drew her into his arms, cradling her close as she cried. He said nothing; right now his cousin didn't need the reassuring platitudes that she had been told at the funeral service; right now she just needed someone to be there for her, to be there as she released the jumble of emotions she had been containing for the past few days. He rocked her gently and patted her, stroked the back of her smooth blonde head.

For a long time she cried in his arms, occasionally gasping out a broken phrase or two; words of protest and anger and grief. Frank thought back to what Megan had said, right after they had met Bella. _"She's controlling all that emotion…she's shoved it down beneath necessities and civilities. But it's there."_ How right Megan had been!

After a while he began murmuring gentle reassurances. "Shhh, it's all right….you aren't alone….You aren't alone, Bella…shhh, I'm here….It's all right."

Finally, after many minutes, when Frank's shirt front was totally soaked, when her eyes were red and swollen, when the tissues she'd used to blow her nose had created a small mountain on the bed, and her voice was raspy from the amount of tears she'd shed, Bella pulled away.

"I'm sorry," she said thickly. "I shouldn't have done that…And I shouldn't shut myself away in here. You are all going home tomorrow…." She gulped, and blew her nose again.

"You could still change your mind and come with us," Frank reminded her.

When presented with the Hardys' suggestion that she come and live with them in Bayport, Bella had thanked them profusely, but had sadly declined the offer. She had insisted that as much as she appreciated it, and loved them for it, New York City was where home was, and where she needed to be. "Here is where I'm closest to Mom and Daddy. I don't want to leave that behind. After I'm through school, I want to run the restaurant. Daddy worked hard to make a name for himself. I can't turn that over to strangers. I can't even turn it over to Alex, though I'd want him to stay on as manager and help me."

To everyone's surprise, Tony Prito had also announced that he was remaining in New York. "After all," he had reminded them, "I'd be transferring to NYU next year anyway; there's no reason I can't do it a year sooner. And Alex has offered me a job at Marco's – too good an offer to pass up. What better job could I ask for than to work there? Alex is even willing to let me rent the upstairs apartment – plenty of room for you guys to come and visit me, right?"

###

Now, in Frank's arms, Bella sniffled...and then hiccupped. "I know, Frank…but I've got to stay here. Daddy and Mom put too much into making Marco's a success for me to just turn my back on it. Besides, New York is my home; I've lived my whole life here."

"I'll bet Alexander wasn't too happy about that decision, was he? He really wanted to buy you out, Bella."

Bella gave a tiny shrug. "He was disappointed, but he understood. He's agreed to stay on and help me as long as I need him. And I'm going to take his advice – try some of the ideas he wants to experiment with. He'll be essentially running Marco's for quite a while – after all, it isn't like I know anything about running a restaurant. He really has the best interests of Marco's at heart. I can't believe I ever doubted him."

"You'll come and visit us, though – won't you?" Frank asked, smiling.

"Of course! And you'll come and see me, too. I'll be around so much, you'll be tired of me in no time!" She managed a shaky laugh. "I know Mom and Daddy were doing what they thought was best when they walked away from both families…but I need both sides now…more than ever."

"And your grandfather has agreed to act as your guardian, but let you stay here?" Frank had heard it all before, but he wanted to repeat it once again, to make sure Bella knew exactly what she was doing.

"It won't be all that long before I'm 18," his cousin replied. "And I'm a big girl, remember? Besides, Tony will be here to protect me!"

"Not a very big girl," Frank teased gently. "Pretty small girl, actually." He winced as she punched his arm, and laughed. "And you're okay with – well, with Antonio's…um…connections?" _One of the most powerful and notorious gangland families in New York, that is?_

"I'm not proud of what Grandfather has done, and I can't condone it," she admitted. "But Daddy was raised in it until he married Mom, and he didn't let it change him. So why should I let it change me? Besides, Grandpa Antonio loves me…and right now, I need all the love I can get."

Frank hugged her tightly. "You've got a whole lot of people who love you, Bella. Come back out in the living room and talk to them."

She cast a rueful glance at the pile of wet tissues. "I'll come in a few minutes. Go on ahead. I need to do a major repair job first."

###

When Frank re-entered the living room, he was vastly surprised to find that the number of people had grown again…but somehow, it seemed fitting to see Antonio Scarpetti's wheelchair sitting next to the couch where Rosalie Scarpetti sat holding a cup of coffee in her frail, blue-veined hands. Joe and Tony stood beside the door to the kitchen, eating and talking about baseball, and Frank moved to join them. Next to Rosalie, Vanessa and the ever-tactful Megan were talking to the elderly woman about New York City and how both of them had used to live there. Fenton and Alex Harrington occupied two nearby armchairs.

Laura Hardy stood surveying the scene with tender eyes. Bella slipped by her, her face restored to nearly its usual attractive state by a cold, wet washcloth and judiciously re-applied makeup. She paused and hugged Laura tightly before crossing the room to speak to her grandfather, who was absorbed in conversation with Fenton.

 _Just look at them!_ Laura thought. _A roomful of Hardys and their friends, and Scarpettis, peacefully coexisting_. She looked at the wall where the photographs hung, and fastened her gaze upon the 10-by-14 portrait of a smiling Marco and Linda.

 _Did you ever think you'd see this day arrive? All you wanted was to be together and be happy. Oh Linda, I hope you can see it, wherever you are… If only you and Marco were here to see it for yourselves._

The End


End file.
